


Precious Things

by Soleya



Category: Stargate SG-1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 24,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soleya/pseuds/Soleya
Summary: A new doctor, a new team, a new beginning... and a new hazard that could blow everything apart... Season 9, Sam/Jack est.





	1. Chapter 1

_1905 Friday_

Sam Carter pulled her front door tightly shut behind her and just stood in the darkness a moment, reveling in the peace and quiet of her home. She'd been on the run from the moment she'd stepped foot on base that morning – not that she'd recovered from her two-day offworld excursion before that – and she desperately needed an hour to herself before company arrived. Resisting the urge to just dump her things on the front table, she carefully hung her purse in the hall closet and moved through the dark house to the table to set down the mail.

Two hands grabbed her arms roughly from behind, pulling her firmly up against a strong, definitely male body as his lips sank to her neck. She'd wanted a bath, but this was good, too. “We'd better be quick,” she murmured with a smile as her attacker began to nip his way up toward her ear. “Jack's plane lands any minute.”

“I'm not worried. I can take him.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Desk work makes a man old and weak.”

“I don't know. I still think he's pretty cute.”

Irked, Jack spun her around to scowl at her. “Pretty cute?”

With a grin that just wouldn't quit, she prodded, “Adorable? _Snuggly_?”

“Oh, you're gonna pay for that,” he growled, bending to throw her over his shoulder despite her shrieks of feigned protest. “I am not snuggly, dammit.”

“Of course not.” Her laughter echoed in the dark hall and made the words nearly unintelligible. “You're a sexy, manly.... man. Or something.”

“Or something. Great.” Stepping up to the bed, he tossed her unceremoniously onto it. “Take your clothes off, woman.”

She was still laughing at him, but waggled her eyebrows playfully as she reached for the bottom of the zipper. “Yes, sir.” Her jacket went first, then the long-sleeved black tee she wore at work before he pushed her to her back, his lips once again on her skin. “I missed you,” she murmured as he kissed his way along her collarbone.

“I missed you, too. Caught an earlier flight.” He trailed his way up her outstretched arm, and she knew his target. He always turned the bedside light on when they made love. It had made her uncomfortable at first, but the way he looked at her, touched her, kissed her – like she was the most precious of gems – set her at ease.

True to habit, he flipped the lamp on and sat back on his haunches to drink it all in. But the expression on his face was far from usual. “Why didn't you tell me you got hurt?” he asked, gaze glued to her torso.

“What?” she asked, confused.

The brown eyes that met hers were a bit irked and a lot worried. “What the hell happened to you?”

She couldn't crane her neck past her chest to see what he was seeing, so she shoved him off and headed to the bathroom. Facing the mirror, one hand flipped the light on... and rendered her even more confused. Her lower abdomen was dark, a purple shade that promised a far worse bruise to come. The color was echoed in splotches on her shoulders and upper arms.

Jack's face appeared behind hers in the mirror, watching her expression carefully. “You're telling me you have no idea what did this?”

“Actually, I.... I think I know exactly what it was.” Her fingers tangled in his, but not for reassurance. Lifting his hand, she aligned it perfectly over a set of four bruises on her upper arm.

He could only stare at the reflected image – his hand, and the perfect copy of it embedded in her skin - for a long moment as he struggled to quell the shock, fear, and disgust at himself. But he hadn't grabbed her that hard. He knew he hadn't. And that meant.... “Put your clothes back on.” His voice was far steadier than he'd expected. “I'm taking you to the base.”


	2. Chapter 2

_1940_

Carter looked mortified, and Jack couldn't blame her. Their relationship had been put through the ringer before they'd even had one, but they'd made it through the letters and meetings with their superiors without ever mentioning the word 'sex'. Which was a good thing – he'd been fairly certain even then that she'd run for the hills and never speak to him again if it would save her from discussing her sex life with her superiors. Obviously, Doctor Lam knew they were sleeping together. But had she ever actually said that? He doubted it.

And now they sat, Sam picking at her fingernails to avoid his eyes while he watched her from his chair in the corner. “I'm sure it's gonna be fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered tightly.

He scrambled to come up with some other platitude, but the curtain slid back abruptly to allow the doctor in. “Colonel,” she greeted the patient on the bed. “What can I-”

Jack cleared his throat.

“Ah. General.” She obviously hadn't seen him in the corner, and his presence sent a puzzled look over her face for half a second before she quashed it. She glanced between them once, twice, before settling back on Sam. “What can I help you with, Colonel?”

The fingernail picking increased in intensity as she opened her mouth. And moved it.

And no sound came out.

He took pity on her. “So, we were....”

He got only those three words out before it hit him – the thing that Carter had likely been fretting over all along. How bad this looked for them. “Uh, well, first off, this isn't what it looks like.”

“What does it look like, General?” Lam asked evenly.

Crap. Why had he volunteered for this? “Well, we were, uh... you know. And....”

Hell. He couldn't do it either. He felt like a teenager, called on the carpet and scared to admit to his mommy that he'd felt up the neighbor girl.

“Colonel,” Doctor Lam pressed, turning her entire attention to the woman on the bed.

Still unable to voice it, Carter lifted her shirt. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but it had gotten worse in the twenty minutes since he'd seen it last. It was deep purple, verging on black, and it made him nauseous.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one. When the doctor's gaze landed on his, professional had turned icy cold. But her voice betrayed nothing. “General, why don't you step out into the waiting area?”

“I'm good here.” Indignation bubbled up in his chest.

“It wasn't actually a request.”

Angry, he spun on Carter. “Are you gonna help me out here?”

“He didn't hurt me,” she managed finally, cringing. “I mean, he didn't mean to hurt me. Really.”

The small smile Doctor Lam offered her indicated she'd heard that one before. “Colonel-”

“No, listen, please.” The blue eyes finally looked up, and a thousand emotions swam through them – but mostly fear. “I mean, we were... not the most gentle tonight, but it wasn't anything that could do this. I think... I think there's something wrong with me. I don't understand how this could happen.”

Her plea clearly fell on deaf ears, as the glance Lam shot Jack hadn't warmed a bit. “Neither do I.”

“Now, wait a-”

Jack's irritation got cut off by an unholy racket outside the curtain as the infirmary doors slammed open into concrete. “Doc! We need a doctor over here!” someone yelled among the bustle and moans of a man clearly in great pain. “Somebody get a gurney!”

“Would you excuse me a moment?” It was clearly aimed at Sam and Jack, though the doctor was already peeking through the curtain.

Nothing would make Sam happier than her exit. “Sure.”

Lam had no more than pulled the divider behind her before Jack asked acerbically, “Does it bother you at all that she thinks I beat the crap out of you?”

“Of course it does,” she snapped back, though softly. “What do you think that says about me, that I would let you?”

He hadn't thought of that, and it took the wind straight out of his sails.

“What happened here?” Doctor Lam's voice filtered through the flimsy curtain, reminding Sam uncomfortably that everyone could hear them, as well.

“He was working on the freight elevator, ma'am, and the cage came down on his leg.”

“The safety malfunctioned?”

“No, ma'am. It opened right back up the way it was supposed to. Twice. I don't know how this happened.”

Hadn't Carter said those same words not two minutes ago? Intrigued, Jack slid back his corner of the curtain. Sergeant Siler lay surrounded by medical staff, which was completely unsurprising. But his pant leg had been slit up to the knee, and the skin beneath was a rainbow of angry reds and purples.

A familiar rainbow. An uncomfortable tug in his gut pulled him to his feet, and his injured lover was right at his heels as he parted the divider further. “Does that elevator close hard enough to bruise?”

“No.”

And they weren't the only ones connecting the dots. The glance Doctor Lam gave them was brief, but said everything they needed to know. Silently, Sam found Jack's hand and squeezed it hard.


	3. Chapter 3

_2015_

Teal'c and Hank Landry were already seated at the conference table when Daniel arrived, Cam Mitchell close at his heels. “General,” the civilian greeted. “Is everything all right?” Getting summoned to the Briefing Room ASAP was usually a bad sign.

“I'm not sure, myself, Doctor Jackson,” Landry answered, which utterly failed at settling Daniel's curiosity. “I believe the doctor will be up to explain it soon.”

“Doctor? Where's-”

But before he could voice his concern, Doctor Lam entered the room. And then, to his surprise, Jack did. And Sam didn't. The dread that had nicked him before now settled in his stomach like a stone. “Where's Sam?”

“In the infirmary,” his friend answered. “She and Siler are sick somehow.”

“And _Siler_? Are they okay?”

“Is it contagious?” Cam asked.

That was his first question? Jack chose the empty chair next to the foolish new guy and sat in it. “I dunno. Let me see your arm.”

Mitchell really should have known better by the way Doctor Lam's hand shot out in warning, but he did as he was told. The general grabbed it in both hands and twisted viciously in opposite directions. “Ow!” the younger man protested, more from the insult than the pain. But it _did_ hurt – as much as when Danny Ballo had done it in third grade.

Holding the arm up to examine the marks he'd left, Jack announced, “Nope. You're fine.”

“Well, at least there's that.”

“We'll check it again in a few minutes,” Lam growled. “In a slightly less crude way.”

“Crude but effective – that's Jack.” Daniel offered up his own arm to the Jaffa sitting next to him to have the test repeated, then did the same for his friend. Teal'c didn't even flinch. And neither showed anything but slightly reddened skin. “Okay. So what's going on?”

“Both of them are black and blue for no reason. Well, no good reason. Siler's banged up from a standard run-in with an elevator door, for cryin' out loud.”

“And Colonel Carter?” In response, Jack just raised his eyes to Teal'c's and held the gaze until his friend nodded. “I see.”

“I'm afraid I don't have any answers yet.” The doctor's announcement wasn't what they wanted to hear. “We can't even be certain their injuries are related, though it does seem strange that two cases of bruising this severe would strike on the same day.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair. “Just to be clear, you do or do not still think I beat women up for fun?”

“It's looking increasingly unlikely,” she answered uncomfortably. “And I apologize.”

“Moving on,” General Landry cut in. “What are our next steps?”

“Well, this sort of thing can have a number of causes. We're testing for all of them – vitamin deficiencies, clotting disorders, a number of diseases – but nothing's come back yet. And, to be honest, even if it does, that doesn't mean we've found the root cause. I don't think we can discount the possibility that Stargate travel has something to do with it – either through alien technology, or contact with something or someone.”

“We can help with that,” Cam spoke up. “It can't be too hard to figure out what they have in common.”

“Siler and Sam?” Daniel asked. “Yes, it can. It could be almost anything.”

“How? Officer, enlisted. Scientist, maintenance guy....”

“Colonel Carter and Sergeant Siler often consult with one another about their projects,” Teal'c said. “And their personal vehicles.”

“If they've spent time together recently, it's also possible that one inadvertently passed it to the other. Without knowing when that would have happened or how, we could have a much bigger problem. An epidemic,” Lam put in. “That you three aren't showing symptoms is a good sign, but we can't be certain that Sergeant Siler and Colonel Carter are the only two affected.”

Landry beckoned Sergeant Harriman over from the corner. “Contact all base personnel – here and elsewhere. Anyone showing symptoms needs to report back to the infirmary immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned to leave, but had to halt a step for the woman in the doorway. “Colonel.”

“Sergeant.” Sam stepped past him and stopped just inside. She held a small pad of paper and offered it awkwardly toward the table. “Sergeant Siler and I have been compiling a list of all the projects we've worked on together recently. It's... not short. He asked me to pass on his apologies. His leg was bothering him too much to come up here.”

Jack crossed his arms. “Kind of like your ribs?”

“I'm fine,” she defended, mostly against the look he was giving her – the one that clearly said she should still be lying in he infirmary where he'd left her. “I'd like to help. I have a feeling it might be hard to narrow down.”

“She makes a good point.” Cam shrugged. “The quickest way is going to be the others who come down with it.”

Jack considered doing a second 'bruise check' on the man's neck, but refrained. “You sure do know how to put a point on things, don't you?”

“I just meant that-”

“Unfortunately, he's right,” Doctor Lam spoke up. “As of this moment, we know nothing. Any information we can get is a step up. So we'll gladly take that paper, Colonel. And then you're coming with me.”


	4. Chapter 4

_2310_

“Sergeant, report.”

Walter pushed to his feet from the radio station as his CO entered. “General Landy, sir. All Gateroom staff have been cleared, as has the rest of SG-1 and Sergeant Siler's crew.”

“Which would seem to imply that this is not a contagious illness. Have you reported that to Doctor Lam?”

“I have, sir. She implied that not being contagious and not being contagious through casual contact are two different things. She's keeping a close eye on General O'Neill, sir.”

“I see. Well, let's hope she's wrong, or we could have a lot of sick civilian wives on our hands.”

“Sergeant Siler isn't married. And it would call into question how they became ill in the first place. Sir,” he added uncomfortably.

“Yes, yes, it would.” Though after all Colonel Carter and General O'Neill had gone through for their relationship to be approved, he couldn't imagine her canoodling around – and certainly not with Siler. “What about the rest of our people?”

“All crew heads are currently contacting their subordinates and will report back to me, sir. None of the field teams on base have experienced any symptoms; however, Captain Baker had a rather unfortunate incident with his car at home and is reporting in. His injuries may be completely unrelated. We have nearly two dozen more to contact on Earth, sir, and five teams offworld are currently unreachable.”

“Unreachable?” Landry asked.

Walter checked his clipboard. “SG-7 is studying the caves on P4X-582. SG-13 is currently observing radio silence on P3X-122 in search of one of the Priors. SG-14 is surveying M2X-143 and is likely out of range. SG-16 is on P4X-124 and has reported multiple communications equipment failures due to particles in the atmosphere. SG-19 is also observing radio silence.”

With a sigh, the general said, “I hate to do it, but I suppose we'll have to wait for them to check in, unless we have reason to do otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you been cleared, Walter?”

“Uh, no, sir. Once we've finished contacting the rest of base personnel, we'll take care of it.”

Of course they would. While every member of the SGC was an unsung hero, unknown to the public, Landry knew that the ones with the thankless jobs worked every bit as hard as the field teams. Putting the needs of others before their own was something they all did, without even being asked. “Good work, Sergeant.”

With a nod, the NCO went back to work.

~/~

Jack couldn't help but think, as he pulled a chair closer to Carter's bedside, that he'd be spending much of his foreseeable future there. It made his stomach lurch. “How are you feeling?”

“Discarded.” The glare she shot him was blatant, but she set aside her laptop to speak to him. “At least Doctor Lam gave me a copy of the list I made and got me my laptop. She's been keeping me updated on the results, and I've been crossing things off as we go.”

Knowing that it was likely to get him in trouble, he suggested, “Maybe you should try and get some sleep. It's late.”

“There's a lot to do,” she answered with a shake of her head. “The sooner we get this pinned down, the sooner the doctor can start on a cure.”

“I heard they brought someone else in.”

“Yeah. His daughter slammed his hand in the car door. Due to the multiple broken bones, they're not calling that one excessive yet.”

“So... no one else.” For a moment, he could only stare at her. He wanted to do so much more, but since the medical staff had given them the ugly white infirmary clothes and tucked them safely in, they'd pulled back the dividers and there was no privacy to be had.

That, and he was terrified to touch her.

“Well, that must mean just as much, right? If it really is only the two of you.”

“Maybe.” Forcing a smile, she said, “Sorry to ruin your weekend. I'm sure you didn't really plan to spend it here.”

He couldn't help it – he put his hand over hers. “I planned to spend it with you.”

For just a moment, the smile turned real, if sad. “Siler and I have low levels of platelets in our blood. That's all that's come back in the tests so far. Of course, the question is, why are they low?”

“Platelets,” he echoed dully.

“The clotting cell. That's why we're bruising so badly – we're bleeding more easily.”

Without consciously intending to, he yanked his hand from hers, then cringed when she sighed, “Jack.”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“I know that.”

Quietly, he asked, “Is it serious?”

“Maybe.” Her voice was just as soft. “If the levels keep dropping, then yes, we're in trouble.”

“We'll figure it out.” He could only hope the look he gave her was as reassuring as he meant it to be and not as worried as he felt. Only she wasn't looking at him – she was staring intently at something over his shoulder. Intrigued, he turned around. “Reynolds?”

It caught the other colonel's attention, and he turned toward them from the infirmary doors. “Fancy meeting you here, sir.”

Jack stood to approach him and fought down irritation that Carter was out of bed and on his heels. The bruising was evident on the side of his face, beginning just in front of his ear and trailing down below his collar. “So, what happened to you?”

With a smile that was a little too bright, Reynolds said, “Much the same thing that happened to you two, if the rumors I hear are right.”

He felt more than saw her wilt. “Great,” she muttered. “That's great.”

“Newsflash, Carter,” Jack hissed back. “They all know we're sleeping together.” Though if he pushed it too hard or said that too loudly, he was well aware that could become past tense at any point.

Determined to move past it like the adult and officer she was, Sam straightened. “Who else?”

“Most of the team. Baker's already here, though they haven't called it officially yet. Peterson took a baseball to the shin tonight and it blew up. Bosco isn't showing any symptoms yet, but he's on his way in.”

“That's probably a good plan. I should go tell Doctor Lam.”

Jack glanced between the two of them. “Tell her what? You look like you've figured this all out.”

“Not all of it,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I know where. P4X-124. SG-3 helped scout security for the data site, and I went out to get their network online with the crystalline structure we found.”

“Yeah, but what about Siler?” Last he'd checked, the man stayed mostly on base.

“They've had odd mechanical issues due to atmospheric conditions. Sergeant Siler spent a day troubleshooting their radios and generators.” Catching his gaze, she added, “There were others, sir. There are almost two hundred people in the village nearby. And SG-16 is still there.”

She only still called him sir when she was seriously upset, and it was catching. The knot in his stomach flipped to make itself known. “We'll get them back here pronto,” he assured them. “Just hold tight.”


	5. Chapter 5

_0100 Saturday_

The lights in the Gate Room blazed full force despite the late hour as SG-8 donned their HAZMAT gear and prepared to head out. Jack watched them through the window of the Briefing Room, early for their next meeting and hidden in the still-dimmed lights.

But of course, he wasn't alone. “Do you think they're alive?” Daniel's voice was soft and as concerned as Jack felt.

“Reports are, they've been in and out of contact since they went. Something about the atmosphere and the radios not getting along.”

“So you think they're alive.”

He waited through the last revolution to answer, 'til the wormhole's light burst through the space and made him blink. “I think they'd better be.”

It took the archaeologist a moment to sort that one out. “She'll be okay, Jack.”

Of all people, he knew Daniel would be the one to read the fear in his eyes behind the mask. And so he met his gaze straight on. “Yeah.”

~/~

_0200_

“A total of nineteen people have been to P4X-124,” Sergeant Harriman reported to the group around the conference table.

“Nineteen,” Daniel echoed, concerned.

“We have reason to believe they are all ill?” Teal'c asked.

“Six of them are currently in the infirmary, with five showing symptoms. Sergeant Bosco may be infected, but hasn't been injured in any way to make it apparent yet. Doctor Lam was awaiting his reaction to the blood draw.”

Jack had seen the golf-ball sized bruise the needle had given Carter, and nodded. “I'd find it hard to believe three of the men on that team were infected while the fourth made it out totally unscathed.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Cam put in. “To SG-1, even.”

“True. Maybe he's lucky.” Daniel shrugged. “Who else?”

“Airman Boyle worked with Sergeant Siler, and Airman Stolz carted several rounds of supplies back and forth. Both have been contacted and ordered to report in immediately. Three members of SG-11 helped Colonel Carter and SG-16 set up the scientific equipment. They are currently offworld and heading back to base, reporting major symptoms.”

When he paused, Jack prompted, “That's not nineteen, is it?”

“No, sir. SG-13 made first contact.”

Landry swore. It brought a moment of silent confusion to the table, as it was a rare occurrence. “Hank?” the other general prompted.

“SG-13 is attempting to track down and eliminate a Prior on P3X-122.”

“Okay. Well, uh, that's important, sure,” Daniel said to the ensuing silence, “but their health has to come first, right?”

Jack shook his head. “It's not that, Daniel. They're supposed to be on radio silence. I assume we've tried to contact them?”

Walter nodded. “Several times, sir.”

“Several times. Great.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So, at this point, the Priors may well know we have a team there. And the only people who don't know that are SG-13.”

Tenting his dark hands on the table, Teal'c stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I will accompany the team sent to retrieve them.”

“Me, too,” Daniel volunteered. “I can't just sit here. I need to do something.”

Jack sighed. “Yeah. Me, three.”

“General-”

The warning lights and klaxons cut off Landry, with a voice through the speakers announcing, “Unscheduled offworld activation!” It brought the entire room to their feet, filing down the steps to squeeze into the Control Room as quickly as possible. “It's SG-8, sir,” the tech announced.

The base commander tapped the radio. “This is Landry. Go ahead.”

“We've located SG-16, sir. It looks like they tried to make it back to the Gate. We're going to need a retrieval team.”

The general's discomfort was obvious in the amount of time it took his finger to strike the button again. “Casualties?”

“All of them, sir. They're all dead.”


	6. Chapter 6

_0500_

“The autopsy on Major Wolfe confirmed findings from a few other blood samples we'd taken. There's an organism in their blood,” Doctor Lam explained, hitting a button to bring a magnified image up on screen. She hadn't bothered to touch up her makeup, and the circles beneath her eyes from working all night were beginning to show. “It's something I've never seen before.”

“Imagine that.”

If General O'Neill's comment stung, she didn't let it show. Still, Daniel offered, “This isn't exactly the first time we've heard that around here.”

“So I've read. The concentration is highest in SG-16 and seems to be proportional to the amount of time spent on the planet. But even Airman Stolz is testing positive, though he was only there for a few hours. The good news is that random blood samples we've drawn from the medical staff and around the base have all come back negative.”

“It's not contagious,” Cam ventured.

“Exactly.”

“What's the bad news?” the archaeologist asked softly.

Her answer was apologetic and straight to Jack. “It's multiplying. The level in Colonel Carter's blood rose drastically between draws. And their platelet levels seem to be inversely proportional. If I had to guess, I'd say the organism feeds on them.”

“English, please.” But unlike every other time he'd ever said it, it wasn't snapped out with irritation. The general was quiet. Concerned.

“When trauma occurs, platelets join together to cause clotting. And after that, they secrete a chemical to help the blood vessel walls repair themselves. The lower the levels, the higher the incidence of bleeding and the harder to stop it if it occurs. And if they get low enough, spontaneous hemorrhaging can occur.”

“SG-16 bled to death without cause,” Teal'c surmised.

She shook her head. “No, I doubt they ever reached that point. Major Wolfe's blood tests showed hemolytic anemia, as well – destruction of red blood cells. Without the proper amount of oxygen flowing to their organs, they would have been fatigued, short of breath, dizzy – and once they fell and injured themselves, then yes, they bled to death.”

“And that's happening to Sam?” Daniel's glasses were surely spotless, but he kept scrubbing at them in concern.

“No, not yet. Their RBCs are dropping, but not nearly as fast as the platelets. Which is good news, because the lifespan of a platelet is generally only about a week, but red blood cells take much longer. So if we can stop the organism, the patients should recover in reasonably good time.” Turning her full attention to General Landry, she said, “We need to send a team back to P4X-124. I'm already doing blood cultures, but any information we can get about what does and doesn't feed it, where it's coming from.... Anything could be helpful.”

Jack's question came from nowhere. “How long was SG-13 on that planet?”

Walter dug quickly through his files. “Five days. SG-16, over a week. Colonel Carter, Sergeant Siler, Airman Boyle, and SG-3 were there approximately two days. Captain Menard, Major Rathbone, and Sergeant James were there nearly four days, and Airman Stolz's total time was approximately six hours.”

“Colonel Dixon's team may still be alive.” As usual, Teal'c was right on his friend's heels. “I believe a team should be deployed immediately.”

“Agreed. Gear up. We're headed out in thirty with SG-5.” He couldn't save SG-16, but Jack would be damned if another team would die out there of a disease they didn't even know they had. “Daniel, you and SG-8 are headed back to 124 to dig up whatever you can. Hopefully somebody wrote something down or you can talk to the locals. Report back how many are sick.” Clearly finished with the briefing, he pushed back from the table and got to his feet, followed by his two former teammates.

Doctor Lam was already standing, which left two men at the table. Colonel Mitchell stared uncomfortably at his CO, who took a deep breath and pressed his hands flat on the table. “General,” Landry said evenly, “could I speak to you in my office for a moment?”

Oh. Right. The SGC wasn't actually his anymore, and Jack had just neatly steamrolled the man supposedly in charge. He tried to feel bad about it and failed. This was what his second star was for, dammit. “Of course.”

“Walter,” the base commander called to the man shrinking into the far corner, “notify SG-5 and SG-8 of their orders. Add SG-12. Departure at 1000 – everybody needs a few hours of sleep.”

“Yes, sir. Sirs.”

Landry waited until Jack was well inside the office and both doors were closed before he said, “Respectfully, General, you're skirting the line here.”

“What line would-”

“The one where you agreed that Colonel Carter was out of your line of authority.”

Jack scoffed. “Carter doesn't have a damn thing to do with this.”

“Really? You're telling me that if she wasn't lying in the infirmary right now, you'd still be running this operation?” When he didn't answer immediately, Landry pressed, “No. You'd be spending your time with the woman you love. Like you should be.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of hard right now,” he shot back bitterly. “Since she's sick, and all.”

“I'm well aware of that.” One hip perched on the desk, he took a deep breath and leaped. “And we both know things are apt to get much worse before they get better. If they get better. You're not leaving this base, Jack.”

“I have to.” His voice was thick, leaden. Like his stomach. “I have to do something.”

“Yes, you do. Here. Jack, we have no idea how long it will take to retrieve SG-13 and no idea how fast this condition will progress. I understand SG-1 wanting to be part of the solution; I do. But four men are dead. Don't you think their families would give anything for another day with them? You have that. Don't throw it away.”

To that moment, it had only been intimated – the knot in his gut and chill in his spine. To that moment, no one had actually said it – that she was dying.

And suddenly the fraternization policy he'd cursed for eight years made perfect sense. Because she'd been ill before, in danger, on the verge of death, and it had been upsetting. But now, now that he'd touched her, held her, told her how he felt and heard it in exchange, now it was world-shattering. He was nauseous, dumbstruck, his chest crushed beneath the weight of it all. He knew beyond a doubt that he couldn't just sit by her bedside and watch her die.

And he also knew he didn't have a choice. 

“I'll keep you updated,” Hank promised. “I'll let the Pentagon know you're staying for the near future and working limited amounts from this base. The distraction will help.”

Knowing he would have to buck up but not yet trusting his voice to speak, he nodded and headed for the door.

~/~

To his inestimable relief, the rest of SG-1 had beaten him back to the infirmary. Carter was clearly tired – they all were – but she smiled at Daniel as he took her hand and said something Jack probably wouldn't have understood, anyway.

He envied them the ability to touch her so easily. He envied them having not seen the marks of their own hands in her skin. Knowing that it wasn't his fault didn't make it easier, nor did the knowledge that someday soon, the most minor trauma could kill her.

Compartmentalizing all of that, he stepped up between Cam and Daniel and smiled at her.

She grinned back, cheeky. “Washington's not letting you deploy, are they? No more swashbuckling for you.”

“Exactly,” he lied. “Damn desk jockeys.”

“Mmm. Well, the rest of you need to sleep, at least.”

“Indeed.” Teal'c settled into the chair on her left, across from Jack's usual spot. Daniel and Cam snagged chairs from other places and dragged them over, as well.

With a chuckle, she chided, “That is not what I meant. Go get some real rest. I'm fine.”

Three heads shook in unison.

And they were far from the only ones. The last member of SG-11 was snoring beside his ill teammates. Three guys from maintenance were passed out in a corner. And one of the civilian scientists slept with her head beside Airman Stolz' hand. A nurse caught her glance and shrugged.

“We love you, Sam.” Daniel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and flipped off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight.”


	7. Chapter 7

_0959_

Lieutenant Colonel Greer oversaw a quick earpiece check with the nine men around him as the Gate began to spin up. Perhaps SG-13 had the luxury of not using radios on their long-term mission, but he didn't. He had a ticking clock. “As soon as the Gate's clear, we split into our two-man teams. You all have your UAV images. Any sign of our team, radio in with your location.”

As the men around him chorused “Yes, sir!”, Cam looked at Teal'c and spoke under his breath. “I know there are ten of us, but they are _covert ops_. It's their _job_. And we're supposed to find them?”

“It is fortunate that we have been paired together,” the Jaffa answered, just as quietly, though that smile that always made Cam nervous spread across his face. “I have no intention of finding them.”

“What?”

He was spared from answering when the Gate burst to life and a man on either side of it tossed two shock grenades through. Moments later, the MALP rumbled jerkily up the ramp and through the wormhole. After a moment for Landry and Sergeant Harriman to receive the images, the general announced, “You have a go. Good luck.”

SG teams 5 and 12 (and half of SG-1) stepped quickly through the Gate, ignoring the dozens of unconscious Ori followers around the steps. So much for guards, Cam thought. SG-12 remained behind to return the MALP before they awoke, and the other six headed into the forest.

The pace Teal'c set was brutal, leaving Cam literally scrambling to keep up with him. It was difficult to keep his bearings, track the map they'd been given, and not fall on his face, but he was doing a passable job. Until.... “Hey, aren't we supposed to head that way?”

“Indeed.” The Jaffa neither slowed his pace nor changed direction.

“Okay, then what are we doing?” In looking at the map, he missed a tree branch and tripped. By the time he recovered and got to his feet, his 'partner' was nearly twenty yards ahead. “Teal'c? What are we doing? _Teal'c!_ ”

~/~

_1205_

Landry had been right about one thing: the work the Pentagon had sent over was good for Jack. Mostly, it – and the fact that he was going to have to get glasses soon to be able to read it all – irked him, which kept his mind off the sleeping woman next to him. And off the fact that she'd slept very, very late, even through the visit from the nurse who'd carefully peeled back the shoulder of her gown and taken blood through the central port they'd put in the day before. If her veins were weakening, they'd said, it was better to poke once and leave it than dozens of times.

Okay, so maybe the paperwork wasn't quite distracting enough. He made a mental note to ask Walter about the science labs. Whatever was going on down there always boggled his brain.

And reminded him of Carter. Damn.

“Headache?”

The blue eyes were sleepy, but she'd clearly been watching him for awhile. “A little. Eyes aren't what they used to be.”

A smile curved at her lips. “Did you get any sleep, old man?”

“Yeah, some.” He couldn't help but smile back. “You should've seen Mitchell standing next to all the gung-ho infantry guys. It was hilarious.”

“Eight years ago, you'd have said the same about me.”

The grin grew. “Eight years ago, I _did_ say the same about you. Just not where you could hear me.”

She raised an arm to smack him lightly... and then remembered how bad an idea that was. Awkwardly, she put her hands back in her lap and started picking at her thumbnail again. “How about Daniel and SG-8?”

“They've already sent back all kinds of stuff from the crystals and around the site. The whole med staff is here running it.”

“I'm sure they are. Pull the drape, Jack.”

“What?”

He'd clearly heard her, so she just waited for him to process the request and the implications of it, then do as she'd asked. Cocooned off, he sat back down and settled his elbows on the bed. “What's going on?”

Her voice was soft, cognizant of the thin divider. “They're dead, aren't they?”

“Who told you that?”

The look she gave him was wilting. “Where are they, Jack? Even if this were contagious, there's no reason to keep SG-16 isolated from the people already infected. You found them a long time ago and just didn't tell us. Because whatever this is... it already killed them.”

Not entirely trusting his voice, he just nodded.

“When?”

“Around two or so.”

It wasn't what she was asking, and he knew it. “When?” she asked again.

“They'd been dead at least a day.”

“God. That's, what, five days from exposure?” She was already on four.

“Six. And none of you were on that planet as long as they were,” he pressed. “None of you are that sick. We're gonna figure this out. But you need to.... What are you doing?”

“Hand me my clothes,” she ordered, tossing back the sheet to sit up.

This would be so much easier if he were still her CO, if he could verbally smack her back into bed and keep her there. “Not a chance. You're not going anywhere.” But he couldn't touch her, so he settled for looming over the bed.

“I'm gonna take a look at the samples they brought back. Maybe they're missing something. I need to help them.”

“No, you need to rest,” Jack insisted.

“I'm fine.” Her eyes met his, fierce. And terrified. “I can't just sit here and wait to die. I have to do something.” And with that, she pushed off the bed to her feet.

With any luck, it was just that she'd stood up too fast. Or low blood sugar from missing breakfast. But more likely, it was the low platelets and early onset anemia that sent her pitching off balance and into him as her knees gave out. He caught her as gingerly as one could possibly stop someone from hurtling toward the floor, carefully letting her wilt instead.

He could get her back into bed himself, or he could do it gently, but he couldn't do both. “Tell me again how fine you are,” he murmured into her ear before turning his head. “Nurse!”


	8. Chapter 8

_1600_

“Are we gonna stop to eat lunch at any point?” The days were long on this planet, but Earth time, Cam was about three hours past hungry. “Or drink something? Or just, I dunno, _rest_ like normal people do?”

Teal'c stopped so abruptly that Cam slammed right into his broad, hard back. “I am not 'normal people',” the Jaffa announced.

“Right. Thanks for that.” His nose hurt.

“Eat quickly.”

As the alien perched neatly on a fallen tree and unwrapped a protein bar, Cam chugged a good deal of water and rummaged through his bag for his MREs. “Look, Teal'c, I'm a pilot. I hate to admit this, but after eight years of tromping around with you guys, Jackson was probably way better qualified for this. I have no idea why General O'Neill chose me instead of him.”

“I do.”

Well, at least there was that. “Why?”

“If P4X-124 contains documentation regarding this illness, Daniel Jackson is most likely to translate it,” he explained. “And your presence on this mission serves my needs far better than Daniel Jackson's could.”

“Uh.... Care to share how that is, exactly?”

“No.” Finished, the Jaffa stuck the empty wrapper in his pack and stood. “I will scout the area while you complete your meal.”

And he disappeared before Cam could ask any more questions. The MRE pack hadn't quite finished heating, but he'd feel like an even bigger fool complaining about that, so he shoveled it into his mouth half-cold. He was mostly done when Teal'c returned, and he, too, shoved the remnants in his pack.

Once more, the alien took off through the woods. “Hey, you dropped something,” Cam said.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you....” He was sure of it. He'd seen the little glint as it had fallen through the leaves. “Yes, you did!”

When he turned around, solid, the Jaffa's face left no doubt that his word was gospel. “ _I did not_.”

What, was dropping something a mortal sin in Jaffa-land? Cam hadn't been around long enough to know, but he didn't dare countermand the guy again. “Okay, okay. You didn't.”

If anything, the confrontation had given the man more purpose. With a sigh, Mitchell broke into a jog and tried to keep up.

~/~

_1730_

“The radio transmitter modifications Sergeant Siler made are working,” Daniel's voice reported through the tinny speaker in the Control Room. “With the extra equipment, we've managed to set up repeaters all the way to the village.”

“How bad is it there?” Jack asked. Behind him, Doctor Lam and General Landry were just as tense. They had fifteen of their own infected, but if it had somehow spread to the village, it could be ten times as bad.

“That's the thing,” the speaker said again. “None of them are sick.”

Landry beat the other general to the button. “Are they somehow isolated from the base site?”

“No. The village is a bit hard to get to, on the other side of the mountain, but the villagers spent quite a bit of time with SG-16 both here and at the camp. They're really upset about the news, but they have no idea what happened.”

Confused, Jack spun on Doctor Lam. “'Splain!”

“They're... immune somehow,” she said. “They must be.” It was her turn to key the radio. “Can you convince them to give you a blood sample, Doctor Jackson?”

“Several are already on their way to you with Sergeant Donovan, but it'll be a couple of hours before he reaches you. We're digging for more information in the archives here. How are they doing?”

“Not well,” she answered tightly. “The members of SG-11 were exposed longest, and they are worst by a long shot. Most of the rest are beginning to show symptoms of anemia as of today – except Airman Stolz, who is covered in bruises but insists he's fine.” She sighed. The next bit would be news to both generals, as well, but she might as well tell them all at once. “We infused a blood sample with extra platelets to see if that was a feasible treatment, but all it did was increase the rate of organism growth. We are treating the hemolytic anemia with every tool available. Captain Menard and Major Rathbone will be receiving their first transfusion of red blood cells this afternoon.”

The silence stretched a moment before the archaeologist said softly, “I can come back.”

“What you're doing could help, Doctor Jackson,” Lam said gently. “Remember that.”

“Yeah. Tell her hi for me. Daniel out.”


	9. Chapter 9

_2200_

“We will stop here.”

Cam managed to stumble over to a tree in the failing light and leaned against it to keep upright. “Are you sure? I bet I could make it another, I dunno, thirty feet before I just fall over and die there.”

Teal'c merely cocked his head. “This will do.”

“What is this, some kind of hazing?”

“I am unfamiliar with that term.”

He thought it was pretty clear. Walking at that speed for a solid twelve hours was a rare form of torture. “Did you do it to Jackson? Make his life miserable to prove himself?”

“I did not.”

The officer slid down to sitting. “So I'm special. Great.”

“Indeed.”

The smile that made its way across the Jaffa's face was even creepier at dusk, and Cam frowned. “Don't even think about asking me to get back up right now. I'm armed.”

Settling in himself, Teal'c started on another protein bar. “I do not believe there is reason to at the moment. Eat. We will need to move again later.”

“You make zero sense, you know that?” But he dug through his pack for food, as well. “How long did it take SG-1 to figure you out?”

“Several years. But I was different then,” he said with what might have been a Jaffa shrug. “I do not believe it will take you as long.”

“Well, then, there's hope yet. How long, you think?”

“Not before you eat.”

Cam snorted. “That's a joke. Nice. I get it.”

He'd even get a chance to eat his dinner hot this time – which was good, as cold military mac 'n cheese was never, ever appetizing. It wasn't exactly gourmet warmed up, either, but it could have been far worse. He took the opportunity to savor each bite, washing it down well with his canteen - stalling. He was one hundred percent positive that Teal'c would set him back on the death march the moment he finished, even in complete darkness.

It was a good fifteen minutes later when he tucked the remnants away. “Okay, crazy alien man. I'm ready to resume my torture now.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Could you be just a _little_ less-”

“Hands in the air, gentlemen.” The order came from the trees, which deflected and altered it until it had no specific direction. Four bodies emerged from the darkness, all armed.

And all Air Force. “Mitchell?” the voice asked again. “Teal'c?”

“Colonel Dixon?” Cam asked, scrambling to his feet.

The voice lowered his rifle first, followed quickly by the other three. Yes, that one was definitely Dixon. “What the hell are you two doing all the way out here?”

“Looking for you. Radio silence, and all. We had to come after you.”

“For what? We're not due to check in until tomorrow, if my watch is right.”

“No, you're... right.” It was too dark to see bruises at this distance, so Cam stepped closer. Closer. By the time he stopped, he was staring at Dixon's ugly face from mere inches away. The colonel merely raised an eyebrow.

It was Teal'c who broke the silence. “Colonel Dixon, are you not ill?”

The ranking man planted a hand solidly on Mitchell's chest and moved him backward an acceptable distance. “Say what, now?”

“Every member of the SGC who has set foot on P4X-124 is gravely ill, yet you seem to be well.”

He shrugged. “I feel fine.”

“Any weakness, fatigue?” Cam asked. “Unexplained bruising?”

“Hell, we've got bruises out the ying-yang,” Dixon said with a chuckle. “But we've got damned good reasons for all of them. Bosworth here got into a tangle with a couple of Ori followers, and Wells tripped and busted up his elbow. The luck of that one, I'm tellin' ya.”

“Sorry, sir,” the dark figure to Cam's left said.

“I believe you should return to the SGC immediately,” the Jaffa spoke up. “Perhaps your symptoms have not yet manifested. But if you are truly unafflicted, your condition may be of use to Doctor Lam in her search for a cure.”

“Sure. Let's move along, fellas.” Turning to Teal'c, he swung an inviting arm in the direction of the Stargate. “Age before beauty.”


	10. Chapter 10

_2235_

The generals came from two different directions, but arrived at the door to the medical lab only seconds apart. “Thanks for inviting me to the party,” Jack said, holding open the door.

“You deserve to know.” Landry didn't even pause to look at him – there was little time to waste. “What have you found?”

Doctor Lam stood in front of a stainless steel counter with a microscope and four small petri dishes. “Not what I expected to. Doctor Jackson and SG-8 did a fantastic job with these samples; they're from four very different people. The first is a woman who's never been near SG-16's work site, and for the most part, her blood looks no different from yours or mine. No organism, no antibodies. The next three have all been exposed at some point, to varying degrees: one was exposed for a short time, long ago; one has been to the site off and on for years; one just took her first trip there two weeks ago with SG-13. Here's the kicker – all three of them have at least a small amount of the organism in their blood, and not one shows any sign of antibodies for it. They are not immune.”

Jack and Hank exchanged a look. “They're also not sick,” the two-star said.

“Right. Because the stuff that's in their blood is inactive somehow.”

“Inactive,” Landry parroted.

“It's literally just sitting there,” she explained. “The platelet levels on these samples are nowhere near low enough for concern, and there's no evidence of ruptured RBCs. I even went so far as to inject one of them with extra platelets from my own blood, and nothing happened. But when I added a bit of Sergeant Siler's infected blood to it, the count plummeted.”

As far as Jack could tell, that was the first good news they'd had. At least, it seemed good. “So... how do we deactivate them?”

She cringed. “I'll let you know when I figure that out. None of the antibiotics, antivirals, or antiparasitics we have have made any difference at all.”

“Yeah, but....” The two-star scrubbed at the back of his neck, trying to put the idea into words. “If it's not _them_ , then it's something around them, then, right? It has to be.”

“Environmental,” she answered with a nod. “I would agree.”

“Then why don't we take them there? If we know that's where the answer is.”

“I thought about that,” she sighed. “But all I'm certain that would accomplish is removing a dozen very, very ill people from appropriate medical care. And potentially exposing them to something worse. The water the villagers drink isn't treated or sterile, for example; giving it to a group of patients with compromised immune systems is just plain irresponsible. And more, nothing SG-8 has sent have had any effect on the blood sample I've taken thus far. What are we supposed to do there – set up a tent and force-feed them a smorgasbord and hope for the best?”

Nodding, he relented, “I guess I just-”

A nurse burst through the door of the lab. The panic on her face and streak of blood on her uniform nearly stopped Jack's heart. “Doctor, we need you. _Now_.”

Lam flew out the door, the two generals on her heels.

_Not Carter. Not Carter. Not Carter._

But the nurse flew past his lover's bed to Major Rathbone's. The bed was surrounded by medical personnel – a wall of white blocking whatever had happened from his view. The screaming monitors, however, made it pretty clear. “Status,” she barked.

“The central line blew out,” someone reported. “It couldn't take the added pressure we were putting through it.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” Jack couldn't see the poor girl who said it, but he knew immediately that she'd had her hand on the needle.

“Dammit. He's bleeding internally. Surgery, stat.” As Doctor Fraiser had done so many times before, Lam put one foot on the leg of the cot and swung herself briskly up to stay with her patient, hands attempting to heal the impossible. It took mere seconds for Rathbone and company to disappear. Seconds later, someone shut off the shriek of the monitors.

And then it was silent.

They were all headed down the path Rathbone had just taken, and Jack knew he wasn't the only one thinking it. Ten sets of eyes burned into his face as he stood next to Hank.

He should say something brave, he knew. He was their CO, their compass, their strength.

He also knew he'd never manage it. Not with Carter laying there with them.

Avoiding their eyes – especially hers – he strode out of the infirmary and let the door slam behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

_0400 Sunday_

Cam was no less surprised when SG-5 melted from the trees at the rendezvous point. They were every bit as silent as SG-13 had been, moving around the dry branches without a sound. The pilot had never worked in such terrain, and he envied them their ease of movement. Every muscle in his body ached from the amount of ground he'd covered – and his attempt had been nowhere near as graceful.

“Greer,” Dixon greeted.

“Sir. I expected to be carrying you out of here,” the Marine answered.

The gruff older man stuffed another piece of protein bar in his mouth and spoke around it. “So I've heard.”

“I'm glad we're not.”

“Aww. You care. I'm touched.”

Greer cleared his throat and continued, “Because the Ori have more than tripled their guard at the Gate. We're not going to get out as easily as we got in. They're too spread out for our three shock grenades to be particularly effective. I'm afraid it'll be bloody.”

“That's a shame, but as long as it ain't our blood,” he answered dryly. “Sunrise is in about two hours. They know we're coming, so the darkness is the best advantage we're gonna get. Unless, of course, we just decide to send Mitchell in as a scout, then toss the grenades when they all go running after him.”

SG-12 just shook their heads, but the Marines and the rest of SG-13 snickered. And Teal'c had that wacky knowing smile again, white teeth the only visible part of him in the darkness. “What?” Cam defended indignantly. “What's so funny?”

It was in the silence and knowing glances that followed that it all finally clicked, sending his jaw straight to the dirt for a long moment. “That was the plan,” he managed, one angry finger in the Jaffa's chest. “You had no intention of finding them because you wanted them to find us. You dragged me through this forest at break-neck speed just so that I would make a mess of things!”

“As I said,” Teal'c answered evenly, “I believe you will come to understand me very soon.”

The snickers grew louder.

“You... _You_....”

“Your lack of stealth was not the sole reason for our speed,” he continued. “It was likely their camp was deeply hidden between the village and the Stargate. We had much ground to cover.”

“If it makes you feel better, Mitchell, it wasn't just the tornado you left behind you,” Dixon spoke up. “It was the breadcrumbs that really caught our interest.”

He blinked. “The what?”

The colonel dug briefly in a pocket before tossing a small object at him. He could only follow its trajectory through the occasional glint from the moonlight, but Dixon's aim was true, and he caught it against his stomach. Around him, though he couldn't tell what they were holding, the members of SG-13 each displayed a few.

“We were trying our damndest to figure out who they belonged to. And not a one of us got it right. The colors sure did stick out in the leaves, though.”

So Teal'c _had_ been dropping things, which brought Mitchell a mild sense of relief that he wasn't losing his mind. Squinting, he held the tiny object close to his face in the darkness.

And growled at the tiny blue bar with white stars, then turned his menace to his teammate. “Are these my ribbons? _Did you go through my pack_??”

“Your pack?” Bosworth laughed so hard he choked, leaving Wells to pound him on the back. “You keep them with you? We were sure you'd brought them from home for this!”

Greer crossed his arms. “Just why are you carrying your commendation ribbons offworld in a combat zone?”

“Well, that's an easy one, sir,” Russell piped up, all too eager. “You never know when you'll find some hot girl to impress.”

The raised-brow look shifted to his young sergeant. “Oh, yeah? You carry yours, too, do you?”

“Hell, no, sir.” Raising one arm, he struck his best bodybuilding pose, flexing his bicep. “I get girls with the guns. Then again, I'm not a pilot.”

Much to Mitchell's chagrin, that led to laughter again. Irked, he snatched the rest of his commendations from the remaining members of SG-13. “This better be all of them.”

“I am certain it is not,” Teal'c said. “O'Neill will replace them.”

“Oh. So, he was in on this plan. That's... that's great.”

“Calm down, Colonel,” Dixon chided gently. “Let the boys have their fun. The next two hours are gonna suck.”

It was true. They were heading into battle on the ground – yet another thing Mitchell wasn't so good at. He'd gotten his dream post, but it was nothing like flying.

“I think this is a good time to point out, sir, that if at least one member of SG-13 doesn't make it back to the SGC alive, this whole mission is for naught,” Airman Wells spoke up. “If it comes to it, I volunteer to be that guy.”

His CO grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Such a burden to carry. Let's get this thing figured out, and maybe we can all get back in one piece.”


	12. Chapter 12

_0600_

As Walter had suggested, General Landry found Jack alone in the gym, gloves on his hands and the heavy bag taking a beating. “Have you been here all night?”

“Mostly.”

Landry hadn't gotten much sleep himself, but it was better than nothing. After two nights without it, the other man was surely suffering. “Sit down, Jack.”

If anything, the next tirade was harder. “I've done nothing but sit,” he growled, punctuating it with the blows. “Almost two days now, and I've just sat here. I'm not a sitting type of guy, Hank.”

“I know.” He also knew Jack was likely picturing his own face on the punching bag – after all, Landry was the one who'd kept him on Earth, and the one who'd effectively cut him out of managing the situation. And while he still thought it was the right call, he could see how difficult it had been for the man in front of him to step aside. “Jim Rathbone died in surgery.”

The gloves caught the bag and stilled it abruptly. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Carolyn said his veins wouldn't hold the stitches. Wherever they tried to repair, it just got worse.”

“I'm sure she did her best.” Turning his back, he yanked the gloves off and began unwrapping the athletic tape from his hands. “Two months.”

Landry left him the privacy his position afforded and asked, “What?”

“Two months tomorrow,” he said again. “Eight weeks. Fifty-five days. After all the crap we had to go through, the letters, the hearings... it took so long. So the first time I kissed her was just two months ago. And now....” Now, he was days – maybe hours – from losing her forever. “We wasted so much damn time.”

He'd never known Jack to be a man to be coddled, so Hank gave him the hard truth instead. “You still are.”

The other man spun on him in surprise as the words hit home. Isolating himself in the gym was only cheating them out of the little time they might have left. With a nod, he set the gloves down and headed for the door.

“Jack,” Hank called after him. “Do her a favor. Shower first.”

~/~

Someone had chosen to close the dividers by the time Jack made it back to the infirmary. He couldn't decide if that was wise or foolish: when the next man goes down, it said, we don't want you to see what's going to happen to you.

It was depressing. But it was apt.

He tucked a corner back just far enough to slip through Carter's area and found her propped to sitting, a book in her lap, noticeably paler than the night before. Still, she smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His own smile didn't quite get there. “I, uh.... I wanted to apologize for last night. I should've-”

“You did the right thing,” she interrupted. “I... needed a minute, myself. And if you'd come over here, I don't.... I don't know what would've happened.” And neither of them could afford to lose their composure with so many subordinates relying on them.

“I still feel like an ass about it.” Which was why he stood awkwardly at the foot of her bed rather than slumped in his usual chair. “Did Landry at least say something profound and inspiring after I left?”

“Oh, yes. So profound that I immediately forgot it all. But maybe I'm just jaded – I've lived through a lot of those speeches.”

“Yes, you have. Remember that. Did you get any sleep?”

She nodded. “A couple of hours. Have they located SG-13?”

“No word yet.”

“And Daniel?”

“Still combing the village, trying to figure out what makes those people so special. By the time he's done sending samples, we'll have enough food here to throw a party,” he joked.

“Well, it could be anything. Something in their diet, or the water. The materials they use to build their houses, even.”

So he'd been told, but that only meant it would take longer. And time was something they no longer had in excess.

One pale, battered hand patted the mattress beside her, and he perched there. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Slowly, carefully, she began to leverage herself away from the pillows to sit on her own.

“Whoa, hey, I don't think you should do that.” Especially after what had just happened to Rathbone. “Lay down.”

“In a minute.”

“No, you need to-”

“Jack.” Her head landed ever so gently on his shoulder. The embrace was awkward, limited by her fatigue and the central line sticking out from her right collarbone, and it terrified him to know that one wrong move could leave her seriously injured – or worse. Still, he attempted to return the gesture, letting his fingers land weightlessly on the back of her white shirt.

She appreciated the effort more than she could possibly put into words. Determined to hang on to the moment, her senses documented everything about him: his scent, his broad shoulders, his stubble from yesterday's shave. He was warm and strong, the antithesis to her condition, and she would need to hold on to that. Because she wouldn't be able to hold on to him much longer. With her platelet levels quickly approaching critical, contact became riskier by the minute, and this would likely be their last. Maybe ever. Tilting her lips the tiniest bit toward his ear, she murmured, “I've been really happy with you, Jack.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched hard against her cheek. And again, and again as he struggled for composure. The single word he managed was desperate. “ _Don't._ ”

“Okay.” Content to have gotten a few minutes close to him, she didn't need to push for goodbye yet. She hoped.

“Unscheduled offworld activation!”

To Jack's credit, he didn't startle enough to jar her. “Teal'c,” he said, and waited patiently for her to detangle herself and slip back onto the pillows.

“Keep me in the loop,” she answered, and watched him go.


	13. Chapter 13

_0650_

General O'Neill kept to the side of the corridor, waiting for the medical team that had been summoned to rush past him at any moment. He chose to take it as good news – that SG-13 was still alive. That at least _part_ of SG-13 was still alive.

Of course, it was entirely possible that the people sent to rescue them had been injured themselves, instead. So much for optimism, he thought. But when he stepped through the blast door into the Gate Room, it wasn't crowded with military men. Teal'c and Mitchell were nowhere to be seen. Captain Strong of SG-8, looking awfully woozy, stood on the ramp, supported by an SF and Doctor Daniel Jackson.

“Well,” Jack announced. “You're not who I expected to see.”

“Yeah. Uh, he slipped in one of the caverns near the city and whacked his head pretty hard.” Handing the injured officer over to the medical team, Daniel headed down the ramp to talk to his former teammate. “I offered to bring him back. I... I wanted to check in on Sam. How is she?”

“Pluggin' along,” he shrugged. Then, “Rathbone died.”

He nodded. “They just told us. I swear, Jack, we've tried everything, but I just feel like... like we're not getting anywhere.”

His reply was lost in the massive thump and whir as the Stargate began to spin up again. “Unscheduled offworld activation!” Walter's voice echoed through the PA.

“ _That's_ Teal'c,” he said instead, stepping out of the way of the gurney as it rolled back toward the infirmary. “Go get checked out. Carter'll be glad to see you.”

He stayed, even as the PA announced that the returning teams were under fire and called more Security Forces to the Gate Room. Stepping back to let the men do their jobs, he waited as the barrage of primitive arrows flew harmlessly through the Gate. He waited as SG-12 stepped through. Then Teal'c and Mitchell. His heart fell a little as the last member of SG-5 stepped through.

And then, for the longest moment, he could only stare open-mouthed at the final team to emerge. They were grungy, beaten up, but _standing_. “What the...”

Teal'c's eyes found his. “They are not ill, O'Neill.”

“Get to the infirmary. _Now_ ,” he ordered, then beat them out the door. This had to be good news, and Jack would be the one to break it to her. If only to see her smile.

~/~

_0915_

“Knock, knock!”

General O'Neill tugged back one edge of the curtain to admit Colonel Dixon into Carter's little space. “Dave. It's good to see you.”

“Sir.” The two exchanged a strong handshake before Dixon turned to Sam. “Hangin' in there, I hear.”

His cavalier attitude had always made her smile. “That's me.”

“The guys are still getting checked out. I figured I'd make the rounds while I wait. Might be good for morale.”

“Oh, it is,” she assured him. “Just the fact that you're not sick means so much. It means there's an _answer_. There's something that works, because I have no doubt you were exposed just like the rest of us. Something was different for your team, and once we pin that down – I mean, what you ate or drank or-”

“Carter,” Jack interrupted, knowing that the wind-up was just beginning. “Take it easy. The doc is working on it.”

“Sam?” This time, it was Daniel who tugged the divider aside. “Sorry, I had to wait for my sonogram. Good news – I'm still not a Goa'uld.”

“Excellent.”

When she said no more, he pressed, “You okay?”

“Oh, I'm fine. I'm just apparently not allowed to talk anymore. It's too taxing. Just ask Jack.”

Dixon chuckled at the spat as the general rubbed the bridge of his nose. Clearly, she didn't like being sidelined. To change the subject and get the hell out of Dodge, Dixon said, “As soon as the rest of the team's cleared, we're meeting in the Briefing Room. We'll get this hashed out.”

The pat on the leg was intended as reassurance – a chummy move. But it sent both other members of SG-1 diving for him, and Jack's hand caught his just before contact. “Don't touch her.” His voice was grave. “Don't touch any of them.”

Taken aback, far more concerned than he'd been five minutes prior, the colonel nodded. “Got it. I'll see you upstairs.”

“I'll stay with Sam,” Daniel volunteered as the other man left.

Jack shook his head. “We need either you or Strong, and I hear he's waiting on a CT scan.”

“I'm pretty sure I can survive on my own for an hour,” the sick woman said dryly. “Really.”

With a nod and a promise to return, the archaeologist ducked out. Jack sighed. “I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm just-”

“Hovering?” she asked gently.

“Yeah, well, I reserve the right.” He'd always been terrible with words, relying on other forms of communication to get his feelings across. Small touches, holding hands, hugs... without them, he was lost. Finally, he contented himself with stroking the hair at her temple. “I'll be back.”

She shrugged. “I'll be here.”


	14. Chapter 14

_1000_

“Nineteen people went to P4X-124.” Doctor Lam glanced up from her records to look around the conference table, packed with two generals, Walter, and two different SG teams. “Fifteen of those people are seriously ill or dead. Four,” she said to SG-13, “are just fine. We need to figure out what you four did differently. As soon as possible. Sergeant Harriman has been looking at the reports, but this is quicker.”

Dixon shrugged. “We took off for the planet after the SGC received intel from the Free Jaffa about a mineral that could be used as a possible weapon. We scouted the place, found the stuff, and brought back some samples. The nerds said it was better than a weapon, which I don't think is possible, but I don't suppose that matters.”

Walter glanced up from the haphazard pile of open folders in front of him. “You negotiated with the locals, sir.”

“Yeah, a lot of that.”

“Let me guess – in the village,” the doctor said.

“That only confirms what we already know, Doc.” Jack sighed in frustration. “It's something in the village.”

Ignoring him, she pressed, “Tell me everything you did while you were there. Everything.”

Dixon frowned. “Balinsky. Go.”

“Yes, sir,” the archaeologist piped up. “Well, there was a fascinating welcoming ceremony involving prayers from what they called both the old and new religions, one in what could be considered a dialect of Ancient. They-”

To everyone's surprise, it was Daniel Jackson who cut him off first. “The abridged version. Please.”

“Right. Uh, we met someone in the square who got the elders, there was a ceremony in the square, they offered us lodging. Much nicer than sleeping on the dirt, by the way.”

“Was there anything special about these accommodations?” Lam asked. “The blankets, the buildings? Gifts?”

Colonel Dixon shook his head. “Wood and scratchy wool. The standard. Feather mattresses. And they didn't give us anything – no oils or perfumes or any of that crap.”

“Okay. What about the food? Everything you ate and drank.”

Brow furrowed, he glanced at Airman Wells for a good long moment before returning his gaze to the doctor. “You said all four of us came back clean? You're sure?”

“The organism is still in your blood,” she explained. “But it's inactive, like in the villagers.”

“Then it's not the food,” Dixon said. “Or the water.”

Jack leaned forward, interested. “How can you be sure?”

“Because Wells doesn't eat or drink anything the Air Force doesn't send with him.” With a shake of his head, he added, “Pansy.”

“I learned my lesson in the two weeks I spent in the infirmary after M3C-978, sirs,” the young man said. “I've never thrown up so much in my life.”

“Well, Airman, your weak stomach has been very informative,” Lam assured him. “So, not the food, not the water. Keep thinking; there's something else.”

The four men glanced at each other. “Uh, Balinsky and I toured the place,” Bosworth offered. “Including a temple that was kind of funky. But it was only the two of us.”

She shook her head. “It's got to be all four of you.”

“Doctor Lam?” One of the nurses stood in the doorway, a large floppy envelope at her side. “I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but I have Captain Strong's CT results. I... thought you should see them right away.”

Immediately concerned, the older woman took the envelope and quickly withdrew the film, holding it up to the fluorescent lights above the table. After a long moment, she said, “Take them again.”

“We... did, ma'am,” the nurse answered uncertainly. “Twice. We had maintenance come check the scanner, too.”

Though her arm fell away from the light, Lam still stared at the image in her hands, silent. It was Landry who prompted, “Is he all right?”

Her eyes flicked up abruptly, cold as ice. “He's probably concussed. But he's definitely irradiated.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Radiation.” Doctor Jackson was the first to find his voice. “You're kidding.”

Jack glanced at his friend in concern. “Yeah. Uh... Daniel's kind of got a bad history with that sort of thing.” And if Strong had been exposed, so had his teammate.

“They were in hazmat suits,” Landry insisted. “Shouldn't that block the radiation?”

“Some of it. Not nearly all of it.” The look in her eyes hadn't warmed a bit. “Can someone please explain to me how we sent _nineteen people_ to a radioactive planet?”

“I thought the MALP checked for that,” Jack said, looking to his favorite sergeant for reassurance.

He got it. “It does, sir.” The little man flipped quickly through the paperwork in his hands. “If the levels had been dangerous, the mission wouldn't have been approved. I'll find them.”

“Perhaps someone should check the sensors,” Lam suggested acerbically. “Because they're clearly not working.”

“Uh....” All eyes turned to a nervous Walter Harriman, expecting him to admit that there had been a massive screw up. Instead, nervous, he said, “Respectfully, ma'am, I disagree. As I recall, Sergeant Siler requisitioned a lot of testing equipment when the radios stopped working. If he'd found anything, he would have put out the alert. Ah – here it is.”

The doctor's brows furrowed as she examined the paper he handed her. “It's clean,” she admitted. “But Captain Strong isn't.”

“Well, he spent most of his time-”

“Oh, let me guess! In the village,” Jack interrupted.

“Yes.” The word was dry as Daniel glared at his friend for cutting him off.

“So, the people who went to the work site are sick, but the people who went to the village aren't,” Landry surmised, “and at least one of the people from the village has been exposed to radioactive material. Dare we assume that the radiation is actually protecting these people?”

Lam nodded. “We'll check the blood samples from the villagers to be sure. We need to get in touch with SG-8 and tell them to find the source.”

“Not to be insensitive here or anything,” Colonel Dixon spoke up, earning a raised eyebrow from Jack and Teal'c, “but we were in that village for a week. Do we need to be concerned? I mean, I ain't exactly done havin' kids yet, and I don't really want a little two-headed green monster.”

“Were there any pregnant women in the village?” the doctor asked with feigned patience.

“Yes, ma'am,” Balinsky said.

“Were there any little two-headed green monsters in the village?”

Wells's cough covered his chuckle. “Not that we saw, ma'am.”

“Then shut it, Colonel.” To her father, she said, “I need very specific information. Wavelength, frequency, level of daily exposure. And if that's not something we can easily replicate on Earth, we may need to find a safe way for them to transport some of it through the Gate.”

The table was silent a moment before Landry said woodenly, “You want to irradiate my base.”

“Just the infirmary,” she said. “I hope. There are precautions that can be taken.”

“This is probably a stupid question,” Wells spoke up, “but wouldn't it be safer to just take the infected people to the source instead of bringing it here?”

“You haven't seen them, have you?” Jack's soft, even tone was only alarming to his teammates, who knew him well. “It's far too late for that.”

“It would have to be here,” the doctor confirmed.

“What about the medical personnel?” Landry asked. “I realize that multiple people on my staff have already been exposed to this, but until we know more, I think we should keep that number as low as possible.”

“We'll evacuate the infirmary. We'll... set up remote monitoring and only enter as necessary, with protective gear. Let's face it,” she relented, “all we can do at this point is watch, anyway.”

Eyes glued to the table, the general rubbed at his forehead for a long moment. Jack understood the choice clearly – allow an unknown, dangerous substance onto the base... or allow nearly a dozen people to die – and didn't envy him making it. But one of those dozen was his, and as far as he was concerned, there was no choice at all. “Hank.”

It was a plea. And more than that, a reminder: those people had family. Loved ones. Children. “I want every precaution taken,” the general said.

“Of course.” She sucked in a breath to say something else, but held it a second between pursed lips. “I need to warn you.”

Landry's response was nearly a growl. She'd gotten his agreement before the warning? “Warn me about what?”

“Not you.” No, she was looking past him – at Jack. “I need to warn you that... this may stop the progression of the damage, but it won't reverse it.”

“Meaning what?” Daniel asked softly.

“Even if this works – even if the radiation kills off the organism – these people are incredibly sick. I can't guarantee you they'll all recover.”

The men around the table let her somber words sink in, watching their friend and leader for a response. It took a while. “I'm sure you're doing your best. Excuse me.”

The two-star's quick exit fairly well heralded the end of the meeting. Landry also got to his feet, and Dixon jumped at the chance. “We're not done with this conversation, Doc,” he promised as he headed for the door.

“Oh, I'm sure we aren't.”

“Uh... I swear I'll be less of an ass about it, but I would like a little more assurance than 'everyone on that planet is fine,'” Daniel said. “I'm sorry, I just.... I've been down that road before. It wasn't pleasant.”

“I understand.” The smile she gave him was reassuring. “The information I get from SG-8 will help me determine what kind of dose everyone got. We'll go from there. It's just that – well, people who are standing on their own steam are a low priority right now.”

That earned a smile in return. He didn't need to know immediately; after all, the damage was already done. “Of course. Thanks.”


	16. Chapter 16

“ _Yesterday_ ,” Jack hissed, his pacing unrelenting regardless of the tiny space. “ _Yesterday_ , I said, 'If the answer's in the village, why don't we just take them there?' and she said it was pointless. And I was _right_ , dammit, and-”

“Lower your voice, please,” Sam chided softly, all too aware of the people outside her little curtains.

“I should have pushed the issue. For you, at least. We could have at least _tried_ ,” he growled. “And now it's too risky.”

“It was too risky for Major Rathbone then. We just didn't know it yet.” And the other two members of his team, from what she'd heard, were in dire straits as well.

The pacing stopped abruptly. “God dammit, I want Doc Fraiser back.”

Oh, so did she – with every breath. The loss only seemed to amplify as life events stacked up with no one to talk to, through her father's funeral and the end of her engagement and the beginning of the relationship she hoped would be it. And it seemed more likely to be her last with each passing moment, but that had nothing to do with losing Janet. “I'm sure Doctor Lam is doing her best, Jack.”

“Well, it's not good enough.” Scrubbing a hand through his gray hair, he muttered, “I don't know why I hired that woman.”

There it was: at the root of it all, Jack blamed himself. She sighed. “She comes from the CDC. Strange diseases are kind of their thing. She's had more thrown at her in the past few months than anyone deserves, and she's taken it all in stride. How many people could do that and thrive?”

He grumbled something unintelligible.

“She reminds me of you, you know. Walking into a super-secret facility and taking charge like that, with no idea what you'll face from day to day – it takes guts. She's strong, and she's fearless.”

Whatever she'd said, it was wrong. The rage dissipated entirely too quickly, leaving him slumped in the chair with an expression she didn't recognize. “I'm not fearless,” he admitted quietly. “I'm-”

It wasn't necessarily the sudden halt that bothered her, but the odd way he was looking at her. “What?” she asked as he tugged the curtain back and called, “Nurse!”

“What?” Her heart started pounding in her chest, and that wasn't a good thing in her condition. “What is it? What's wrong?”

Lieutenant Mayes ducked her head through the curtain. “Sir?”

“Her eye. What's wrong with her eye?”

The nurse took one glance, saw the panic evident on Sam's face, and stepped up to the bed. “It's nothing, Colonel, I promise. A blood vessel in your eye has ruptured, but it's one of those things that looks far scarier than it is.”

Jack stared at the floor. “Right. I just-”

“It's okay. It's not uncommon even in healthy people, and we've been seeing a lot of it. The sergeants have it, too. It looks bad,” Mayes conceded, “but it's okay. Is there anything else I can get you, Colonel? More water, or....”

“No. Thank you,” Sam said, and the young woman stepped out. “Don't scare me like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Is it really bad?”

His gaze landed on hers and immediately shifted so slightly she probably wasn't supposed to notice. “No,” he lied. “Not at all.”

Well, there went any more deep, meaningful time together, if he wouldn't look at her. She closed her eyes a moment.

And then opened them. “You know,” she said, “your plan could still work. For one person, anyway. And that one person could teach us a lot.”

It took a long moment for him to process her meaning before he pulled the curtain aside and headed toward Airman Stolz.

~/~

_1130_

If Hank had any ideas about this post healing his relationship with his daughter, they were being crushed early and hard. While he had no doubts in her qualifications for the job or the situation, they seemed to be at odds every step along the way.

Maybe, he thought, because his concern had to be the base as a whole – the world as a whole, and her concern had to be a few of the people in it. And maybe that was what she'd seen from him her entire life: that his self-constructed “greater good” had stolen him from what she deemed important. He wondered if the others in Airman Stolz' cubicle could feel the ice radiating off her as she prepared the young man to travel, but he ducked out through the curtain before Jack could say anything.

But the other general, triumphant, stepped out as well, leaving Landry to take cover in the next curtain over. “Sergeant Siler,” he greeted. “How are you?”

The thin man raised a heavy, fatigued arm to salute, but Hank waved him off. Siler tugged his oxygen mask down, instead. “Oh, fine, sir. I wish I could be out there on the search for whatever this is, though.”

“I think a lot of people would feel better if you were,” he conceded, “but it's not a good idea.” The man was even paler than usual but for the tiny purple dots all over his skin. His left eye had hemorrhaged. “I thought some of the other techs were here.”

“They were, sir. But Sergeant Wieste deployed to help find the radiation source, and the others are building a containment vessel to get it back here safely.”

That figured – Siler and his team were some of the hardest workers on the base. “Do you have faith in them?”

“Yes, sir. They're good people, sir.”

“Good. Then keep your chin up, Sergeant. The answer's coming.”

“Yes, sir.” Slowly, carefully, the NCO lifted the oxygen mask from his chin and put it back over his mouth.

Through the next curtain lay SG-11 – the worst of them all. Sergeant Paris sat between the two beds where he'd pulled back the divider, and though his back was to Landry, the white strap of the sling on his arm was obvious.

That broken arm had kept him on Earth. And had maybe saved his life.

“I promise, baby, I'm fine,” he told the phone in his other hand. “One hundred percent A-okay. I just gotta stay here awhile.”

Unlike the other patients he'd seen, the cots were completely flat, the men unmistakably ill. Both occupants lay perfectly still but for the gentle rise and fall of their breathing through fogged-up masks. There would be far more equipment if Carolyn could risk it, he knew, but almost everything had been removed or left unused after Major Rathbone's death. Only the small monitors on their index fingers remained, tethered to softly beeping monitors.

“No, no, I'm not in trouble. Babe, I swear to you.”

Captain Menard was asleep, but Sergeant James caught a glimpse of the base commander through his blood-red eyes and raised a frail hand to point at him – the only movement he could manage. But it caught Paris' attention; he turned and nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “General, sir.”

“As you were,” Landry told him quickly.

“Thank you, sir.” To the phone, he said, “I love you. I'll be home soon,” and placed it back in its cradle. “Trace is gonna be really ripped up about the Major. She really liked him. I don't want to tell her until I can be there.”

Considering that official notifications hadn't been done yet, it was probably best that way. The general just nodded.

“Any news?”

“SG-8 is on the lookout for the source of the radiation,” he said. “Now that we know what we're dealing with, SG-7 is headed out to meet them with better test gear. They're estimated to reach the village in three hours. And Airman Stolz has agreed to deploy, as well, to help us gauge the necessary dose.”

“Yes, sir,” Paris said. “We... heard.”

So the argument between General O'Neill, his daughter, and himself had reached the entire infirmary. Landry sighed inwardly.

“Tell him we're all pulling for him,” the sergeant went on. “I hope it helps.”

Glancing at the two prone men, he said, “I hope it helps everyone.”

“Me, too.” The voice was weak and heavily muffled by Sergeant James's oxygen mask.

Smiling, Landry opened his mouth to answer, but a nurse popped through the curtain with a cart of beverages. “Lunchtime!” she announced. “I know you both are just dying for your nutritional shakes and... this stuff.” The glass she swirled was full of cloudy liquid – likely the medications the men could no longer risk swallowing in pill form.

Paris slid his chair out of the way with his good arm before helping his teammate gingerly remove the breathing mask. “I'll give you a hand.”

“And I'll just get out of the way,” the general offered. “Hang in there, fellas. We're gonna get this figured out.”


	17. Chapter 17

_1400_

“Jack told him this was voluntary, right?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, _actually_ voluntary,” Sam pressed. “No threats or coercion or-”

“He's not in the mob, you know,” Daniel interrupted. The fast beeping of her heart monitor along with the commotion from outside her little partition couldn't possibly be good for her. “Take a breath.”

“I know he's not. But I know how he gets. When it's me.”

Yes, his best friend did tend to lose his cool more often when a member of his team – especially Sam – was in danger. “This is best for Airman Stolz, too,” he said. “The village is his best shot.”

“If he lives through the wormhole,” she pointed out.

“He's not nearly as sick as the rest of you. We have every reason to believe he'll make it,” he soothed.

“And we had every reason to believe Major Rathbone would survive his transfusion, or Doctor Lam wouldn't have tried it in the first place. And it killed him. And she still thinks this is a good idea?”

Actually, no, the doctor was entirely against it. So he had no response to that except, “You really need to take some breaths, Sam. It's not good for you to be upset.”

She shook her head. “We need to call this off.”

“It was your idea!” he insisted. Maybe the clatter was for the best – the young man they were transporting definitely didn't need to hear her misgivings.

“I know that. You know what I don't know? His first name,” she said. “How old he is. What his plans are. He's a kid, Daniel. I don't think I want him taking this sort of risk for me.”

The archaeologist sighed. “His name is Jerry. And it's not just for you, Sam. Captain Menard and Sergeant James are far sicker than you are, and there are five more people right there with you.”

Her eyes slipped shut, and Daniel was a tiny bit grateful not to have to ignore the horrid looking red one for a minute. “I know that,” she said after a bit. “I just....”

“Don't want to lose someone else. I understand.” If only because another death just made hers loom larger. “Tell me something, Sam: if you were in his position – the only one who could make the trip and potentially save a lot of lives – would you?”

“You know I would.”

“That's exactly what he's doing. So let him, okay?”

A sigh puffed out as she tried to relax against the pillows, but the noise of Airman Stolz being prepped for transport rang through the thin curtain as though it wasn't even there. She managed to still everything but her big toe, which waved a bit as though tapping a vertical floor.

“Now, how are _you_ doing?” Daniel asked, trying to change the subject.

She shrugged. “I'm starting to feel it.”

“Starting to?”

“I'm starting to feel it more than I'd like,” she edited. “My back is black and blue just from the pressure of laying here, and this – this is from nothing at all.” One thin arm lifted to display a grid of purple dots – tiny spontaneous hemorrhages, he knew, and it absolutely terrified him. “It's been five days, Daniel.”

“I know.” And none of the dead soldiers had survived six. “You weren't exposed as long as they were. You're not as sick yet.”

“Yeah.” Her smile was fake. “Yet. Any news from the planet?”

“Not yet. SG-7 just arrived with the full radiation gear.”

So it would be slow going. She nodded. “I understand.”

He let his hand hover over her smaller one for a moment in exchange for real contact. “Well, I suppose I should go gear up.”

“Gear up? For where?”

“I'm headed back with Airman Stolz. I mean, I've already been exposed, so....”

“So more radiation probably isn't a good idea,” she pressed. “And I – I mean, when would you be back?”

“Well, it's four hours to the village. Five, probably, with an injured man. And then however long it takes to find an answer.”

He had to hold back the impulse to tell her not to bite her lip as she said simply, “Right.”

“What's wrong?”

“Four hours,” she said with a shrug. “If something happens....”

“If something happens, I'll come back.”

“Yeah. In four hours.”

She had a point – Major Rathbone had gone from nearly fine to bleeding out in seconds. “Sam, you'll be-”

He stopped as the curtain pulled back and Jack stuck his head in. “Hey. Stolz is all set. I thought I'd see him off. You mind?”

She shook her head, and when she answered, Daniel was pretty sure his friend didn't hear the fear and resignation in her voice. “No.”

“Okay. I'll be back. Let's go, Daniel – no time to lose.” And he was gone.

“Be safe out there,” Sam said quietly, staring at her hands. “I'll see you when you get back.”

But she didn't believe that; he could tell. She just couldn't bring herself to say goodbye. More, if he left her, she'd be truly alone – Cam was napping, Teal'c was in the cafeteria, and Jack had gone to the Gate Room. With a sigh, he grabbed for the phone near her bed. “Hey, Walter? It's Daniel. Would you, uh... Would you tell the general I think I'll stay here? Thanks.”

The receiver wasn't even back on the hook before she said, “You don't have to do that.”

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “Yeah, I think I do.”


	18. Chapter 18

Hank and Jack stood at the bottom of the ramp as the HAZMAT-geared medical team walked through the wormhole with Stolz's isolation pod. The event horizon rippled behind them, and Jack counted the seconds until the radio sounded, “This is Med Team 1. We have arrived and are headed toward the village. Airman Stolz is a-okay.”

“Safe travels,” Sergeant Harriman responded. “SGC out.” The wormhole snapped off, and both Generals turned left to leave.

Carolyn Lam stood in their path, still clearly livid that they'd sent Stolz offworld. She shoved a piece of white office paper their direction.

The two men just stared at it for a moment, both fairly certain it was her resignation. And if she had the nerve to consider leaving in the middle of such a crisis, so help him, Jack would seriously reconsider his attitude on beating women senseless.

Landry took the sheet of paper gingerly and glanced at it. “What is this?”

The question didn't sound rhetorical, so Jack looked over himself. It was medical, clearly, and he didn't recognize a word of it.

“I've spent all my free time today on the phone with my colleagues at the CDC,” she said. “I can't exactly tell them I'm dealing with a little alien bug, but they had good suggestions for treating anemia and low platelets without needles – sublingually, transdermally, even with light therapy. I need what's on that list. I need it ASAP.”

Jack blinked. “Call the Academy hospital.”

“They won't have it. I've already sent someone for the vitamins and supplements I can get locally, but these are non-standard formulations. They'll need to be airlifted. Some will need to be _manufactured_ first. That list is probably ten or twenty thousand dollars, but they need it. And it's all I can do.”

Landry held the paper out to his CO. “You have more strings to pull than I do.”

He didn't take it. “And if they blow me off? Because it's Carter?”

Hank considered that for a moment. It was quite the favor to call in, anyway, but for a lover.... Regardless, though, she wasn't the only one sick. Holding the list toward the Control Room window, he yelled, “Walter! I need a copy of this! And a second phone in my office!”

Teamwork. Well, that was a plan. “And a comfy chair!” Jack called and followed the other man upstairs.

~/~

_1530_

“Knock, knock.”

No answer came from inside the curtains, so Cam slowly peeked around the hem before stepping inside. Carter didn't react, her eyes closed, but Daniel rolled his head back to vertical and looked at him. “Enjoy your nap?”

“Do I sense judgment there, Jackson?” he asked as the archaeologist stretched out the kinks in his neck.

“No, no judgment. Jealousy, maybe, but not judgment.”

He raised an eyebrow. “There's more than one bunk in this place, you know.”

“I know. But Sam seems to want us to stick around, so....”

“The feeling's mutual.” To the woman resting on the bed, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“She finally fell asleep a little bit ago.”

Cam glanced from the computer display near her bedside to Jackson and back. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. What's up?”

He shrugged. “I thought her heart rate last night was more like sixty-two.” But the monitor read seventy-one, so he must have been wrong.

Daniel made a face at him. “You're a pilot _and_ a doctor now?”

“No; I was just bored. But I've slept since then, you know, so-”

“Lucky devil,” the other man grunted. “Have you seen Teal'c?”

“One of the nerds caught him in the hallway for something. He jumped at it – I think he's going a little stir crazy down here – and when Mister Stoic is losing it, that really says something. But I can page him, if you want.”

“No, no, that's fine.” Daniel would have a stroke if someone paged him to the infirmary with Sam this ill; he wouldn't do it to Teal'c.

Digging the banana he'd snagged from the cafeteria from his pocket, Cam settled into a chair near the foot of the bed and started to peel it... only to stop at the tingle of someone watching him.

It was Jackson, and he wasn't looking at the colonel, but at the fruit he held. Intently. Freakishly so.

“Uh... hungry?” he asked, offering it out.

The other man snatched it up. “You're a good guy, Cam.”


	19. Chapter 19

_1720_

“I think I hate this planet already.” Major Long's voice echoed dully through the hood of his radiation suit. “And the fact that it could kill me isn't even on top of the list.”

“What is, sir?” Sergeant Biggins thought better of reminding SG-7's CO that he'd already been here nearly two days with SG-8. And unlike Major Long, he hadn't had a radiation suit the whole time.

“It's the dirt,” the older man said. “The red. The desert. I grew up in Arizona. I hate desert.”

He had a point – the dirt was a burnished color for as far as the eye could see in any direction. They navigated by Geiger counter, conferring often with two other groups as they attempted to triangulate the source of the radiation. “Stupid question, sir?”

“Just a second.” Major Long scribbled something in his notebook and keyed his radio. “This is SG-niner. 3 kliks north, levels decreasing from six-point-five roentgens an hour. Turning east.”

“Copy, SG-niner,” came another voice. “SG-Bravo, continuing west toward you. Levels increasing at eight roentgens an hour. Estimate two kliks.”

“Okay, Biggins,” the major said. “Shoot.”

“Why are we still here? If radiation cures this thing, take them to a cancer ward or something, right? We have plenty of this stuff on Earth.”

“If only it were that simple. Different isotopes react differently in the body – like iodine gets used for the thyroid stuff, and strontium gets pulled into your bones. This isotope isn't one we know. At least, it isn't one this thing knows.” Holding up his left arm, bulky in its suit, he shook the large isotope identifier he held. “Newfangled technology, you know. Never works when you need it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about exposure, if that's your hangup,” the Major continued. “All signs point to the villagers getting about eleven hundred millirems a year. That's well within safe limits.”

Biggins turned his head to look at the other man, but only got a good view of the inside of his suit. “There are safe limits?”

“Yup. Some people say we even need some radiation for optimum health. You get about four hundred millirems a year just sitting in Colorado Springs.”

“Really?”

“This is SG-Charlie,” the radio spouted. “Reached western border, headed north. Levels increasing at seven roentgens.”

“Copy that,” Major Long answered before muttering something that Biggins could only make out as, “Damn Murphy.”

“Sir?”

“Ahead in the distance and a little bit south, Sergeant.”

The older man pointed with his large orange glove, and Biggins followed the line forward, forward.... “You don't think it's that, do you?”

“Of course it is.” Grid be damned, Long headed straight for it – an enormous rock structure. It looked daunting even from nearly a mile away. “SG-Alpha, this is SG-niner.”

“Go ahead, SG-niner,” Colonel Bates responded from the village.

“I think we found it, sir. We should contact the base. We're gonna need better gear.”


	20. Chapter 20

_1900_

Sergeant Harriman glanced up from his Gate reports at the footsteps on the spiral staircase, and apparently failed to school his expression when he realized who it was. “You can say it,” General O'Neill growled. “I look like crap. Then again, so do you.”

He hadn't left the base since Friday night; that was probably true. “Have you gotten any sleep, sir?” he asked.

“Not a lot. Got some of the meds, though. What's the update?”

“Two teams headed out with the requested mining gear twenty minutes ago, sir. At that time, the medical team was in sight of the village. They should be setting up now.”

“How long to the mountain?”

“With the equipment, sir, we estimated five hours.” When the other man checked his watch, he added, “But they said they'd try to beat that. How is she, sir?”

“Sleeping, last I checked,” he said. “She's been napping on and off all day. Losing Rathbone really got to her, I think.”

“And Sergeant Siler?”

“Good-natured as always. Did you know he had a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“He was talking to somebody on the phone. Hell, maybe it was his mother. I don't know.” Walter almost chuckled, but stopped when the general pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just don't know.”

They weren't talking about Sergeant Siler anymore, and Walter just nodded in sympathy. “Has she had dinner yet, sir? Maybe she'd like some Jell-O.”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe. I'll give it a shot.”

“We'll keep you updated, sir.”

The sergeant couldn't help but think, as the CO stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered away, that he'd never seen him look quite so lost.

~/~

The medical staff was bustling, packing up linens and drapes for removal in preparation for the radiation treatment. Jack stepped out of the way as a hamper rolled by, trailed by two empty stretchers. Curtains were still up around the patients, though, and he ducked quietly into Carter's area.

She was awake, surrounded by the rest of SG-1. If her appearance was anything to go by, Doctor Lam had been one hundred percent correct about the fate of SG-16. The anemia occurred later and maybe wasn't lethal, but its effects were faster and far clearer. She'd lost most of her color in the few hours he'd been gone, leaving the deep purple speckles and patches framed in stark white. She didn't even attempt to lift her head from the pillow anymore.

Still, when she saw him and the parfait glass in his hand, she smiled. “My favorite.”

“They had lemon today. I got him to make a special batch.”

“Good. Lemon....” She shook her head a little. “Bad memories.”

The words were soft, and SG-1 shifted to hear her better as Daniel made room for Jack. “Bad memories of Jell-O?” the younger man asked.

“Yeah. They used to make Jell-O salads for everything, you know.” Carefully, she wrapped both hands around the glass Jack offered. 

“Got it?” he asked, but she didn't. It dipped as he tried to give her the weight of it, leading to a short, awkward battle with gravity that only ended when Daniel rolled over a table and Jack set the dessert on it.

She stared at it, then the useless purple-spotted hands in her lap. So did the general.

“I have never seen a salad of Jell-O,” Teal'c spoke up. “Are salads not made of vegetables?”

“Well, there's fruit salad,” the newest member of SG-1 suggested. “Pasta salad.”

Daniel took the hint – distraction – and chimed in. “Tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Cam said.

“Chicken salad,” the archaeologist tried again. “Egg salad.”

“You had me for a second, and then you lost me again.”

“Bread salads. Fattoush in Lebanon or panzanella in Italy.”

“Taco salad,” Jack put in. “Mmm, tacos.”

“Tabbouleh. It's mostly a grain,” Daniel offered.

“There's a French one, isn't there?” Cam put in. “Starts with an n.”

“Niçoise,” Sam spoke up finally. “Lettuce with olives and anchovies.”

He made a face. “I'm sorry I mentioned it.”

But Teal'c shifted his head. “I believe I would enjoy that.”

“Ambrosia salad,” she offered softly. “Waldorf. Watergate, with pistachios and whipped cream.”

Cam grinned. “Those I can get behind.”

“But the Jell-O.... For awhile, they seemed to think you could pair anything with Jell-O.”

“Aspic,” Jack put in. “Ham and gelatin. I think that was the last time we ate at my great aunt's house.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You know I've eaten a lot of weird foods for culture, but even I might draw the line at that.”

Sam nodded. “It wasn't that bad, but my grandmother would bring a dish of lemon Jell-O with pineapple tidbits-”

“That sounds okay,” Cam said with a shrug.

“And shredded carrots.”

“I take it back.”

She nodded. “When she got really fancy, she'd do diced apple and celery.”

Glancing up, she found four men staring at her in varying degrees of horror.

“Like I said. I don't like lemon Jell-O.” But the dish sitting in front of her was precious, as far as she was concerned. And she probably needed the calories. Grabbing the spoon in shaky hands, she started to eat.


	21. Chapter 21

_2125_

Hank Landry had an incredible opportunity to get several uninterrupted hours of sleep. The mining teams were on their way, the medical staff was preparing for the radiation treatment, and the scientific and maintenance personnel were working to contain it. The higher-ups had been briefed. Once the mining teams returned, he would be needed.

And so he should have been sleeping. He'd even gone to a real bed in a real, private room. But he stared at the ceiling, exhausted, irritated. His body was over-tired to the point of fighting sleep, as Carolyn had done so often as a toddler.

But laying her down had accomplished nothing. No, they'd had to run her through her paces until she dropped, so he shoved the blankets back in the dark, pushed to his feet, and headed for the infirmary.

It looked different. Barren. The curtains were up, but almost everything extraneous had been removed – even the chairs in the waiting area. Anything soft about the place was gone, leaving only the cold cement walls and floor. A member of the maintenance staff was fitting the windows in the door with a dark, heavy material he assumed was meant to block the radiation.

“Doctor Lam's in her office, sir,” a nurse offered.

He hadn't spoken to her since their argument earlier in the day, and hadn't meant to now. But they would have to mend bridges sometime – at least work together – so he supposed he could stop in for an update. He knocked softly and let himself in.

He nearly tripped over her. She was curled on her side on the concrete, her head pillowed on one arm. It couldn't have been comfortable, but if she was as tired as he was, she probably hadn't cared.

But he did. Silently backing out of the room, Hank flagged down a nurse. “Are there any blankets left in here?”

“Not for long,” she warned, but she disappeared a moment and returned with one in her hands.

“Thank you.” He waited until she left to reopen the door. Unfolding the fabric, he doubled and straightened it before laying it over his daughter as gently as possible. Silently closing the door behind him, he headed for bed.

~/~

“Knock, knock.”

The greeting was getting old, but Jack tried not to scowl at the nurse who stepped through the curtains with a cart. Daniel was snoozing on the other side of the bed next to Cam, so he got up to let her in. He had to pee, anyway. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Mitchell watched with interest as the nurse opened a packet and pulled out what looked like a square bandage. She peeled back the adhesive and pressed it ever so softly onto Sam's arm above the wrist. She repeated the process with a second package, then a third, creating a line of flesh-toned patches up her patient's arm. “What are those?”

“Transdermal medications,” the nurse answered with a smile. “They get absorbed through the skin and into the blood. I can tell you about each of them, if you'd like.”

“No, no, that's okay.” But since she was here.... “Hey, question.”

“Sure.”

“Am I crazy, or is her pulse getting faster?”

The young woman glanced at the monitor – specifically, at the “74” blinking in the corner. “Well, that's within the average range,” she said, “but I would expect Colonel Carter's to be better than average when she's healthy.” She took a break from the patches to pull out the chart at the foot of the bed. “You're not crazy; it is going up.”

Well, that was both good and bad, he supposed. “What does that mean?”

“It's probably a combination of several things. Stress,” she suggested. “But she's low on red blood cells right now, so her body isn't circulating the volume of oxygen and nutrients it needs. Her heart is working harder to try and catch up. We can help a little. Colonel Carter? Can you wake up for me for a second?”

It took some coaxing, but the woman blinked slowly. “I'll let you go back to sleep in a minute,” the nurse promised. “I'm gonna put some medications under your tongue, okay?”

“I guess,” Carter breathed. “Where's-” Jack stepped through the curtains, and she didn't bother to finish the question. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Okay.” The nurse stepped her through the process with each medication – five in all – then said, “Are you feeling lightheaded at all? Short of breath?”

Sam shook her head. “A little dizzy, I guess.”

The nurse nodded. “I think we need to get a little more oxygen in your system.” Her patient made a face, but didn't complain as she removed the tube around her nose and gently replaced it with a mask. “Can I get you anything else?”

“A blanket, maybe? Please.”

“Of course.”

Jack took his chair back as the nurse rolled her cart out of the room, then waited for her to lay another blanket and leave again before he said, “That mask is super sexy.”

Sam smiled. “Get some sleep, Jack. There's nothing to do for awhile.”

If only that weren't true, but the mining hadn't even begun yet. As far as he could figure, they were at least eight hours from starting the treatment she so desperately needed. And there was no word on whether it had helped Stolz. “I will,” he promised. “You first.”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and drifted away.


	22. Chapter 22

_2300_

Colonel Raimi of SG-22 dropped his gear beside Colonel Bates and tipped his head toward the rock formation. His voice was muffled through the hood of his radiation suit. “You think it's all radioactive, or it's something inside?”

Bates shook his head. “The radiation seems to be coming through the outer strata, not from it. We thought it might be a device of some sort, but we've examined the exterior pretty thoroughly. No signs of an entrance, no caverns, no nothing.”

Raimi nodded. “How deep do you think this stuff is?”

“I wish I knew. But without knowing how strong it is on contact, I have no way to calculate that.”

“Well,” the colonel said as his team began to unpack gear around him, “we can do this gently or we can do it quickly. And since there's a bunch of people waiting back home, I vote for the TNT.”

Bates raised an eyebrow. “I'll pretty much never argue with blowing things up.”

“TNT it is.”

~/~

_0030 Monday_

She was right. He needed to sleep. And Jack had tried; honestly he had. He'd closed his eyes a thousand times.

But all he saw was Charlie.

And that was a problem, because he knew damn well he wasn't actually seeing Charlie. He was seeing the pictures of Charlie – the ones he still looked at. The ones he remembered. Because – and it pained him so much to admit it that he'd never told anyone – he didn't remember his son.

That was a lie, of course. Jack remembered him – remembered how he liked to play catch, how he loved spaghetti and hated black beans. How Sara had hung up his scribbles like they were the best art in the world.

But he didn't remember what any of those scribbles looked like. He remembered a few of the things Charlie had said, but not the sound of his voice. Not the feel of his arms. And though he knew his son had a birthmark on his shoulder, he couldn't remember what it looked like.

Because he didn't remember what Charlie looked like. Not really. He just remembered the pictures.

And so he watched her, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. Even if she was sick and hidden behind an oxygen mask, he _needed_ to remember.

Because he didn't have any pictures of her. Not a single one.

Daniel would. Surely, in eight years of dragging that damned camera everywhere, he'd caught at least a rogue image or two. Jack wanted so badly to ask him, to make sure before he lost the chance forever, but the man was fast asleep on the other side of the bed. Teal'c slept next to him. Mitchell had left for the night.

So he watched her.

He wanted so badly to touch her, to file away her warmth and the feel of her skin under his, but it was too late for that already.

An alarm screamed, and he lurched upright as Teal'c and Daniel did the same. But the noise was from down the corridor, and he cursed the relief he felt as his teammates ducked out to see who had just flat-lined. Jack couldn't go out there. He couldn't face the reality that was coming for the woman he loved.

He sank back into his chair, and when he looked up again, Carter looked back. Her other eye had hemorrhaged, destroying the blue he'd adored for almost a decade. And he wondered how much time would pass before he couldn't remember their color at all.

She waited until the alarm stopped. Then she said, “You're gonna be okay, Jack.”

He shattered.

He had nowhere to run; the corridor outside was filled with people. Subordinates. But he couldn't face her, either, and he dropped his head to his hands, then to the mattress beside her.

“Oh, Jack.” Her hand landed gently on his hair, and she stroked it with her thumb. “You have to sleep, sweetheart. No one could do this without sleep.”

He nodded into the sheet and, careful not to dislodge her, turned his head just enough to feel her skin against his temple.

“Good. Deep breaths,” she murmured. “Try to rest.”

From his position, he couldn't see Daniel peek through the curtain. He couldn't see the way she shook her head a little, sending the other man away.

And she was glad for it. Because he would be mortified to see that she was crying for him.


	23. Chapter 23

_0630_

“Jack. _Jack_.”

The hysterical voice woke him from a dead sleep, and he shoved himself up to find Carter, to help her, to make sure she was okay.

She very clearly wasn't. She sat bolt upright on the gurney, gasping for air, total panic in her eyes. The heart monitor beside her raced.

“I will retrieve assistance,” Teal'c promised and disappeared.

“I can't.... I can't breathe,” she wheezed at the two remaining men. “Jack. I can't-”

“It's okay. You're gonna be okay,” he lied, trying to control the rush of adrenaline if only for her sake. The oxygen mask was clutched in one hand in her lap, and he gently peeled it out of her grip. “We're gonna put this back on and-”

She shoved his hand away. She'd taken it off for a _reason_ , dammit. “Jack....”

“Easy, Sam,” Daniel coached. “Don't hurt yourself.”

The curtain whipped back as Doctor Lam and a nurse rushed in. “Colonel?”

“Can't breathe,” she choked again.

The doctor shoved Daniel aside to press her stethoscope to her patient's chest. “You feel like you're suffocating?”

Carter nodded desperately.

“You're not. I promise. I promise. You're breathing just fine.”

The woman was clearly crazy, and Sam turned to her lover, reaching out her hand for reassurance. He didn't take it, and she ended up with a fistful of mattress instead.

“Colonel, look at me,” Lam said, propping a hip on the bed to get more in line with her patient. “Sam. Sam, look at me.” She waited until the gasping woman refocused on her before she told her, “Your body is playing tricks on you. You're a scientist. You just have to out-think it.”

She shook her head, still madly sucking in air. “I don't understand.”

“You're low on red blood cells, which means your blood isn't carrying as much oxygen as usual,” the doctor explained. “Your brain is making you breathe faster to try and increase the oxygen, and your heart is racing to circulate it. That's all. So we need to put this back on.” She took the mask from Jack, and this time, Sam didn't resist. “Lieutenant, set that to max flow, sixty percent. Nice, deep breaths in, Colonel. Have you ever had a panic attack?”

“In the Academy,” she managed through sharp breaths.

“It felt a lot like this, didn't it?” When her patient nodded, the doctor said, “That's because it was a lot like this. You're stressed out, your brain's a little low on oxygen, and it's making things snowball on you. You just have to breathe through it, okay? That's all you can do. I'm right here with you.”

It took more than a few tense moments, but sure enough, Sam's breathing started to calm. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“Don't be sorry. It's not something you can help. Let's get you settled.” As her patient relaxed back against the pillow and she held the button to recline the bed flat, she continued, “I have good news. Airman Stolz's blood came back clean – the radiation cured him. He's been monitored since he left, so we know his exact exposure level. They expect to have the source material to the Gate within an hour or so; they'll take some quick measurements, and we can start treatment around eight o'clock.”

“That is excellent news, indeed,” Teal'c said.

“Friendly reminder that everyone will have to evacuate.”

Daniel did the math on that statement as the doctor left. Say what you need to say, she meant. Because you might not get another chance.


	24. Chapter 24

_0745_

Siler craned his neck to see the man working beside his bed, but the mattress blocked his view. And raising his head wasn't an option. “What's the plan, Airman?”

“Just checking connections, sir,” the young man answered. “All your monitoring gear is being migrated to the building network for remote viewing. We've cleared the sections just above and below this one, and the control center is way over in C119. We don't believe this radiation can leech through the concrete, but the buffer zones will be monitored. We can evacuate further out if there's a problem.”

“119 isn't very far.”

“There are two additional rooms already patched through if we need to move out, sir.”

“Good work, Airman.” Motion to the right caught his eye, and he looked over to find a nurse unhooking the curtain that divided him from the last two remaining members of SG-11. Captain Menard slept, his skin a nasty gray. Paris wasn't sick but didn't look much better. “Sergeant. Keep your chin up,” he called softly.

“Trying, sir. I hope this'll be done soon, sir. My wife's in full-on panic mode.”

“That's why I'm single.”

The nurse worked her way around, dropping the curtain neatly into a rolling canvas hamper and revealing the rest of the stripped-down infirmary. Airman Boyle lay across the room to his right, Peterson to his left, and Colonel Reynolds was visible if he tucked in his left foot. Baker and Bosco were directly across, but he couldn't see them – well, except for Captain Baker's poor mangled hand, which the medical staff had rigged into a traction device for elevation. Siler had suffered a lot of injuries over the years, but the very thought of having a car door slam – and latch and lock, from what he'd heard – on his hand made him a little nauseous.

The nurse pulled down the last section of curtain to Sergeant Siler's right, and SG-1 was right where he'd expected, huddled around Colonel Carter's bed. The commotion of an hour before had concerned him, but it had been quiet since. He wanted to ask how she was doing, but he didn't want to interrupt their moment. The eight remaining patients would have plenty of time to themselves during treatment.

“If you've completed your tasks, please head out,” Doctor Lam ordered from the middle of the room. “They're standing by on P4X-124.”

“Just one more minute, ma'am,” a technician called as others began to file out. The visitors said their goodbyes and followed, and soon enough, it was just the doctor and her patients.

And General O'Neill.

“I'm staying,” he said.

“No, you're not.”

“No, Jack.” Colonel Carter's voice barely carried.

“Someone has to stay with them. Give me a suit, but I'm staying.”

“No one is staying,” Lam responded firmly. “I promised to protect the rest of the people on this base, and that includes you.”

“And if something happens?” he challenged. “And they're alone?”

“What do you plan to do about it if it does?” she shot back. “We can have this argument all day, General, but you won't win. You'll delay treatment for a lot of sick people, but you won't win.”

There were few things Jack hated more than giving in, but lives were too high a price to pay for his ego. Turning back to Carter, he told her softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured back. “I'll see you in a few hours.”

She didn't expect him to do it with no curtains and no privacy to be had, but she didn't protest as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her hair for a long moment.

Of course, there was a team of Marines across from them, so the whoop that went up shouldn't have been unexpected. She shot him a wry smile as he pulled away.

He made it as far as the center aisle and fully intended to leave in peace once he said, “Hang in there, fellas.”

But Peterson shot back, “We'd better. Wouldn't want you going after our wives, sir.”

Jack credited the sleep Carter had made him get for his immediate – and sharp – reply. “Would I want to? Is she hot?”

He thought for half a second that he'd gone too far, but SG-3 weren't the only people to laugh. He could hear Carter's soft snort behind him.

“I got nothin' to worry about, Peterson,” Reynolds spoke up. “He's not Veronica's type.”

“I know,” Jack shot back with a nod. “Strong, manly men never were her thing.” In the groans that followed, he offered, “That was harsh. Go ahead – hit me.”

“No, no. You're my superior now,” Reynolds bemoaned dramatically. “I'll just take that wound to my grave.”

“Are we done measuring, gentlemen?” Doctor Lam asked.

“Yes, they are.” That was Carter, her voice tired, but loud enough to reach the room. And then, to everyone's surprise, she added, “But I'm changing the ruler. Bye, Snuggie Bear.”

There was a moment – just half a second – of complete and utter silence before SG-3 burst into laughter. Jack spun on her, slowly, and mimicked pulling the knife from his chest. But it was clearly good for morale, so he couldn't complain. Much. “Bye, Sweet Cheeks,” he shot back and, wrapping an arm around Doctor Lam's shoulders – who was not pleased to be a pawn in this game – he strode out of the room.


	25. Chapter 25

_1015_

Jack's pacing was driving everyone in the monitoring room nuts. But Daniel couldn't blame him – the man had been practically glued to a chair since Friday night. He was a doer, not a sitter. And after two and a half days of mostly sitting, even Daniel had chosen to stand. “So, what do we do after this?” he asked, well beyond sick of staring at the screens in silence. He didn't understand the readouts, anyway, and it was more than disconcerting to see the close up of Sam's exhausted face when it was completely beyond his control. “The radiation kills the organisms. Then what?”

Doctor Lam's head was propped on her hand, her elbow on the desk, and she twisted the whole assembly to look at him. “You're not going to like the answer to that.”

The archaeologist raised an eyebrow.

“We wait.”

“Of course we do. What else?”

Leaning back in her chair, she said, “The good news is we shouldn't have to wait very long. Not for the bleeding issue, anyway. Assuming their megakarocytes are functioning – and they seem to be in Airman Stolz – their levels should rise above critical fairly quickly.”

“How quickly?” Jack asked, taking a brief reprieve from his pacing.

“Uh, well, platelet levels are considered normal down to about a hundred and fifty thousand per microliter. We start to get concerned at fifty thousand, and serious bleeding is an issue as high as twenty thousand. But a healthy person creates about thirty-five thousand platelets per microliter per day.”

“Two days, then,” the general said.

“They are not healthy,” Teal'c spoke up. “Surely it will be longer.”

“Actually, I think you're both wrong,” the doctor said. “We're not starting from zero, for one. Probably more like five or ten thousand, even in Captain Menard. And when the platelet count drops, the body usually kicks up production, so we could be looking at more like forty-five thousand in a day. And once the potential for bleeding is controlled, we can start transfusions for both platelets and red blood cells. It'll take longer to recover from the anemia, for sure, but at least we won't have to worry about-”

An alarm went off. It took Doctor Lam a moment to find it in the wall of monitors, but she clicked the mouse once, then again, and the room went silent.

Dead silent.

It was Landry who asked finally, softly, “Who?”

“Captain Menard.”

That wasn't a surprise, but still a punch to the gut. “Is the alarm audible?” Daniel asked. “Can the others hear it?”

“No.”

He nodded. “Small favors, I guess.”

Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Jack stride across the room. Lam leapt to her feet as he yanked the door open. “General, you can't go in there!”

He ignored her completely. “I got it,” Daniel said, hurrying after him.

But Jack didn't head for the infirmary. He'd stopped right outside the door, and his friend watched in silence as he slammed his open hand against the concrete once, twice, three times, then kicked the wall the for good measure. He knew, as Daniel did, that Menard had been the last real barrier before Sam went critical. All the remaining patients had been exposed for the same amount of time. And that meant that any one of them could be next.

“Siler's sicker than she is,” the older man spat. Then, slamming his hand into the wall again, he cursed. “Forget I said that. Forget I even _thought_ that.”

“It's okay, Jack.”

“No, it isn't.” He couldn't trade one of them for the other. Carter would kill him just for the very idea of it. He'd given up his leadership role, but he had to hold on to his humanity, at the very least.

“It could be worse,” Daniel confessed. “At least you didn't go visit them to try and figure out how sick they are.”

His friend stared at him.

“They thought I was being nice, keeping them company. And I was. But there was always a part of me doing the math. To know who would be next. If it would be Sam.”

Jack sighed. It was easy to forget, in his own pain and grief, that Daniel and Teal'c had just as much to lose as he did. “Do I want to know?” he asked finally.

“She's probably mid-pack. Siler's sicker than she is, but the medical staff is really concerned about Baker's hand. They never operated, so there are still bone fragments floating around in there. They've kept it elevated and iced because they're afraid inflammation and pointy things won't mix.”

The other man ran a hand across his face, then through his hair in irritation. “I don't want to be _relieved_ by that,” he growled. “I don't want to be _happy_ that a man with two kids and a wife might die before Carter does. What kind of monster am I?”

“You're not a monster, Jack,” Daniel said softly. “You're just human.”

He shook his head. “Landry was right to pull me. I can't be neutral anymore.”

“Jack. You haven't been neutral for a long time. It's just... more now.”

That was probably true, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He took a moment to rein himself in before stepping back into the monitoring room to check the timer. There was more than an hour and half left. With a sigh, he slid into a chair.


	26. Chapter 26

_1205_

“What's happening?”

Doctor Lam glanced back at General O'Neill as he headed toward the wall of monitors. “What?”

“What's happening to her? She looks like she's in pain.”

There was only one 'her,' and Lam quickly found the screen he was looking at. Colonel Carter did look uncomfortable; her head set to the side, her eyes closed and brows wrinkled. “Her stats are okay,” she reassured him, though her pulse rate was much higher than the doctor was comfortable with. “She could have a headache from the anemia. She has a lot of reasons to feel cruddy right now.”

The woman in the image pressed a hand to her forehead as she shuffled a bit, trying to settle herself. Siler said something that made her nod a little, and for the life of him, Jack couldn't figure out why they hadn't put in a damned audio feed. He went back to pacing, staring at the timer each lap, waiting as it counted down the last five minutes second by excruciating second.

But when it reached zero, Lam just stared at it. Then everyone in the room stared at her as she told the technician, “Set it for twenty minutes.”

“Wait, what?” Jack asked.

Even Teal'c looked perturbed. “Did you not determine the length of treatment from Airman Stolz?”

“I... did,” she said. “But they have a higher infectious load than he did. And we can't take a blood sample from them to be sure.”

“This is _radiation_ we're talking about,” Daniel argued. “What if they get too much?”

“What if they don't get enough?” she shot back. “What if even one organism survives and manages to replicate? By the time we figure that out, it'll be too late. They won't have a chance to do this again.”

That was a decent argument, so they waited. And waited more. Jack went back to pacing, Teal'c watched his teammate in the wall of monitors, and Daniel scrubbed his glasses until he was certain he'd taken the anti-glare coating clean off. The moment the counter hit zero again, Landry asked, “Done?”

“Yes.”

“Let's get that stuff off my base.”

“Agreed. We need to check the room for residual radiation before anyone can return,” Doctor Lam said. “And I need to assemble my staff.”

With a grunt of irritation, Jack slumped into a chair to wait some more.

~/~

_1255_

Nearly another half an hour passed before Jack reached Carter's bed with a nurse in tow. Her eyes were still closed, her face twisted in discomfort. “Carter? What's goin' on?” he asked gently.

“Dizzy,” she breathed into the oxygen mask. “I think I might throw up.”

“That's a really bad idea,” the nurse insisted. “Don't do that. I'll get a new nausea patch for you.”

“Treatment's all done.” She still hadn't opened her eyes, and Jack was trying his darnedest to help. “Doctor Lam says you could be out of the woods in a day.”

“Mm. Do you think I could sit up a little?”

“I don't.... I don't know.” But luckily, the nurse chose that moment to come back. “She wants to raise the bed.”

“I just, um, I can't really tell which way is up right now.”

“Have you tried opening your eyes?” the nurse suggested.

“That's worse.”

“Okay. We can try to sit you up a bit, then.”

“General?”

Jack spun and found Sergeant Harriman behind him. “Yeah.”

“Washington's on the phone for you.”

“Take a message.”

The look on Walter's face said that wasn't a good idea.

“Is that better?” the nurse asked behind him, and Jack glanced over to see Carter nod, open her eyes, and look at him.

Now? Not in the last countless hours of waiting. They had to talk to him now?

“I'm gonna put another set of patches on your arms,” the nurse was saying, “and in a few minutes, if you're up to it, we'll try your sublinguals, okay?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He hated the Pentagon. “Carter, I'll be back in a bit,” he promised, earning a nod.

Teal'c was headed in as Jack was headed out, and he snagged the alien's arm. “Distract her,” he instructed. “I gotta go. The real world is calling.”


	27. Chapter 27

_1530_

The curtains were back up by the time Jack returned to the infirmary, and he headed straight for Carter's section. She was clearly – and unfortunately – asleep; Teal'c seemed to be meditating in a chair next to her, and Mitchell was eating. Mitchell always seemed to be eating. “Sir.”

Daniel glanced up from the ancient book he held. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Carter was still critical and he'd had his ass handed to him by his superiors for staying in Colorado, so.... “Yeah,” he lied.

His friend saw right through that and made a face. “They're pissed, aren't they?”

He shrugged. “They're always more pissed when I threaten to resign. Can't live with me; can't live without me, I guess. Was she feeling better?”

“Yeah. The nausea patch kicked in pretty quickly, and she fell asleep not long after that. Doctor Lam says it's the anemia. Hey, have you eaten?”

“No. Have you?”

Daniel shook his head.

There was a sudden, distinct lack of motion to Jack's right, and they both turned to see Cameron Mitchell, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. “Go ahead; I'll stay,” he offered.

“No,” the general said simply. He'd already been gone for hours, Carter was still on the edge, and his time with her was ticking down. He claimed a chair.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Cam got to his feet. “Why don't I go get you two something? It's, uh, meatloaf... mashed potatoes....”

“Thanks, Cam.”

Jack nodded, too, and SG-1's new leader promptly skedaddled.

“We should be nicer to him,” Daniel mused.

“I think I've hit the limit of people I can be nice to,” Jack groused back.

An alarm shrieked behind his head, sending him immediately to his feet, and it took a second to realize it was a little further back than Carter's monitors. His stomach flipped anxiously as he tossed back the curtain to where Siler lay.

“Sorry, sir,” a technician apologized from the floor, silencing the alarm just in time for half a dozen of the medical staff to rush in. “Sorry. I was disconnecting the remote setup, and I pulled the wrong wire.”

“Everything's fine,” Doctor Lam announced loudly enough to calm the rest of her patients. “Technical difficulties, here.”

Jack stared down at the man, his lips pressed shut, well aware that the next words out of his mouth would be unnecessarily vile, even for him. And the airman seemed to know it, too; he cowered a little. So did the nurses.

Teal'c got gracefully to his feet, took the edge of the divider between his thumb and first finger, and slid it closed just inches in front of his friend's face. Crisis averted, he went back to his meditation.


	28. Chapter 28

_0430 Tuesday_

The rest of the day had been quiet – too quiet, as far as Jack was concerned. Carter had slept straight through, barely stirring enough to get her sublingual medication. They'd been using the nausea patches like clockwork. He'd wanted so badly to wake her, to have some sort of substantive conversation in the last of their time together, but he was well aware her body was the sole source of healing, and she needed all the rest she could get.

That said, his flight was in an hour and a half, and he wasn't about to just disappear. He stepped past the chair Teal'c slept in and headed for Lam's office. He hadn't really meant to talk to her – he was just going to claim he'd tried – but there was a strip of light beneath the door, and he knocked.

“Yeah.”

It was a good thing she was a civilian, because she looked way too tired to stand for him. Her chin stayed on her palm as she greeted, “General.”

“I thought you'd have gone home by now.”

Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. “In a few hours. I wanted to stick around tonight, just in case. I've been writing up orders.”

They'd butted heads more than once over the weekend, but he couldn't question her commitment to her patients. Maybe he was leaving his team in okay hands. “What do you think their levels are?” he asked.

“I wasn't gonna try a needle until at least tonight. Why?”

Shrugging, he answered casually, “I've gotta head out soon.”

“Ah. I'd say the risk of spontaneous hemorrhage is pretty low by now.”

She didn't know him well enough to know what he was really asking, and he tossed around a few versions of the question to see which sounded least pathetic. But he didn't get the chance to speak before her eyes shifted to the edge of the desk and she touched her first finger to her thumb, then her second, then her third, counting something. “Be gentle,” she decided.

“What?”

“Saying goodbye. Just be gentle with her.”

He was starting to like her, after all. With a nod, he headed back to the chair he'd spent more than three days in and tenderly touched his lover's hand. “Carter.”

Daniel stirred, realized what was going on, waved a hand absently, and went back to sleep.

“Carter.”

Even hemorrhaged, her eyes made him smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she breathed. “What's goin' on?”

“I gotta go,” he answered just as quietly. “To Washington. I have a meeting later.” Bastards.

“What time is it?”

“Five in the morning.”

“Mmkay.”

She started to curl up from the pillow, and he said, “No, no, I'll come to you.” But she pushed herself upright, and he moved to the bed with a gentle hand on her back for support. As she'd done an eternity before, she rested her head on his shoulder in the best approximation she could reach to a hug.

To Jack, it was the world. He let his fingers slip beneath the hem at the back of her shirt to find real, soft skin, and his cheek pressed gently against hers. Breathing together, both relished in the warmth of the other they'd missed so much.

And then she said into his neck, “Snuggie Bear.”

A laugh escaped him at full volume before he remembered to quash it. “You're gonna pay for that. Big time.”

“Looking forward to it,” she murmured. “No time soon, though.”

“Don't think I'll forget,” he warned.

“Don't think they'll let you.”

That was probably true. Though he outranked them, so SG-3 couldn't throw it in his face. They'd just... snicker.

“Sorry,” she said. “Kind of.”

“It made them smile. They needed it.” She tipped her head back, and he found her lips ever so tenderly with his own. “I'll come back Friday night.”

“If you can.”

There was no if about it. “I will,” he promised.

“Okay.”

His whole heart screamed to stay there with her, to hold her forever, but that wasn't the hand they'd been dealt. One arm cradled her head and the other supported her back as he helped her settle against the pillows. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured, leaning in for one last, sweet kiss.

“Love you, Jack.”

“Love you, too.”

It seemed to him, if he ranked the top ten hardest things he'd done in the past eight years, walking away from Sam Carter made up at least half the list.


	29. Chapter 29

_1210 Thursday_

Jack tucked his cell phone safely between his shoulder and his ear as he dug through his wallet for cash, then took the hot dog the vendor offered and slathered it with ketchup. “Look, I want her home, I do, but are we rushing this?” he asked, squirting on some mustard and topping that with sliced onions. “Three days ago, these people were staring down the reaper.”

In Washington, in uniform, that kind of talk didn't even bat an eye. He nodded to the guy behind the cart and switched the phone back to his hand.

“They're doing really well, Jack,” Daniel answered. “The first round of transfusions made a huge difference, and they'll get another tomorrow. Airman Stolz is all but fine. Doctor Lam's been using him to test some dialysis filters.”

Jack took a bite of his lunch and said around it, “Isn't that for your kidneys?”

“No, it's blood. They're trying to filter out the organisms. Nobody really wants a dozen people roaming the galaxy with those hitching a ride, active or not.”

“Good plan.”

“She said that'll take awhile. But they're not going back into the field for a few weeks, anyway.”

Right. “She'll love that.”

The other man laughed. “She's dying to get out of here. But she's gonna need someone, Jack. She keeps saying she wants a shower to wash her hair, but she's not very steady on her feet.”

“Do me a favor and don't try to help,” he drawled. “I'll handle the naked stuff.”

“Mental pictures, Jack, geez,” Daniel complained.

The general grinned. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

~/~

_1845 Friday_

Cold air rushed into Sam Carter's house with the last two guests to join the party. Cam ran into them first, on his way back from the kitchen, and offered up the beer he held as they hung up their coats. “General.”

“Thanks, but... in a minute.” Stepping deftly past the other two men, he headed for the living room – and his purpose. There she sat, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch, staring expectantly at the doorway. The smile that lit up her face surely echoed on his. “No, don't get up.”

“I'm fine,” she insisted, and for the first time in over a week, he believed her. The angry purples and blues had almost entirely faded to a dirty brown in the time he'd been away, now all but invisible in the dim light. Her face glowed again. And best of all, the hemorrhages in her eyes had healed, leaving behind the bright, lively blue he loved so very much.

His large hands tenderly framed her face. “You look so much better.”

“It'll be a few weeks yet,” she shrugged. She was still weak, exhausted, fragile as her red blood cells slowly repopulated.

“Yeah, I heard.”

The blue eyes glinted at him. “Are you checking up on me?”

“You'd do the same.”

She admitted the truth with a smile, and he took the opportunity to kiss her – long, but gentle and sweet. Only when he was thoroughly finished with her did he step back and acknowledge the others. “I'll take that beer now.”

Daniel had already grabbed him another from the fridge, and handed it over before claiming his spot at one end of the couch. “ _Star Wars_ again, Teal'c?”

“Indeed. The newest episode has just been released for home viewing.” Sam's television had gotten quite the upgrade when she'd started dating a hockey fan, so it took him a moment to find the right remote control and settle into his own chair. “Though I still do not understand the term prequel.”

“That's because they made it up,” Sam said. Her attempt at 'settling down' was more of a wilt. “There're leftovers in the kitchen, if you're hungry.”

“I ate on the plane.” Plopping down on the other end of the couch, he set the beer on the end table and held out his other arm for her. She took the invitation gladly and burrowed into his chest, her face in his neck. No one expected her to stay awake through the movie, anyway.

Jack waited a long time, until Cam had flipped off the lights and the previews were rolling, to whisper, “Sam?”

He'd leaned forward enough that their noses touched when she looked up. “Hmm?”

“I'm really happy with you, too.”

Her grin went ear-to-ear in the darkness, visible only to him.

“No more death for awhile, huh?”

“I promise.” She pressed her lips to his once, softly, then settled back into her lover's arms and let herself drift away.


End file.
